Malicious Motives
by Anonymous Void
Summary: Sequel to Fiends. It doesn't matter how well off or close your family is, sometimes you just have to take their life with your own hands. Literally.
1. Guess Who's Back

Author's Note: Guess who's back and with another installment? The sequel to _Fiends_ is here at last and I have to give a good amount of credit to CherrySlim who without her, I wouldn't have been able to come up with a plot for this. Keeping what that plot is close to the chest, like always as before, I'm going to need a few OCs to help me tell it. Same as with _Fiends_, if you didn't tell me or let me know out right that I have your permission to use your OC from the last fic, please resubmit them for this story. For those who haven't, here's your chance to submit. I will warn you right here and now, just because you submit does not mean you're automatically in and here's the reason: I have trouble working with too many characters. That and quite a few from _Fiends_ gave me their permission to reuse their OCs. As of now, Charlie, Sunny, Kyra, Brianna, Gwendolyn, Mari, Bonnie, and Brittany are who I'm still using, along with Bain naturally. So, spots will be extremely limited, moreso than with other fics. I do have a request: I'm interested in doing a subplot that involves a female character who is attracted to Kyle. Normally I wouldn't put that out there but I'm really want to be able to do this one. Other than that, no guarantees. That means submitting also puts your OC at risk of death. I'm more than willing to kill off characters, even my own, and that also includes canon characters.

The form's at the bottom but if you want to get a sense of my writing style, read the following "prologue." For those joining us, the time frame is senior year, and if you want a better idea of where this will go, read _  
>Stranger in those Homicidal Eyes<em> and _Fiends_. For now, enjoy.

Disclaimer: I do not own South Park or Sarah Palin.

Warning: language, disturbing imagery

Guess Who's Back

Grimy and rusting pipes. Filth stricken walls. Scuffled and smudged floor. Dim lighting that flickered occasionally. Store-bought chains wrapping around an all-too-soft human body. A pair of glasses that would normally be perched on a cute, button nose lay shattered and crushed near a creaky chair that held its prisoner.

This is all what the woman woke up to as the fogginess of unconsciousness slowly released her from its tendrils.

There was no recognition in those dark hazel eyes and that prompted fear to slowly cloud them as she tested her restrains and found no merciful grip. What had happened? Where was she? Shouldn't she be at a Tea Party rally, fanning the flames of a movement that was to save this great country from being corrupted by the covetous Liberal rats?

Wait…she couldn't breathe! Oh God, she was suffocating! Something was over her mouth, gagging her and she couldn't breathe! Oh, dear Lord, Jesus, she was dying here! She was—wait, her nose! Nothing was covering that and so sweet oxygen entered her lungs as she slowly calmed herself down. She was okay now, she could breathe. It was okay.

A dripping sound, something her mind hadn't recognized right off the bat but there it was. This dirty place was in so much disrepair…

Was this some kind of _Saw_ thing? Nothing but sadistic gore porn, that. Oh, if only that blasted liberal media could be salvaged for the righteous conservative audience.

She made another effort of struggle but found herself still in square one. These blasted chains! Why wouldn't they release her when she had done nothing to them? When she got out of here, she was going to find out who manufactured these things and send them an angry note, telling them that they really needed to start making some kind of consumer chains where a normal person could break out of them if they happened to be wrapped in them like she was.

Yeah, that would show them.

"You know, I expected more of a panic out of you," a voice spoke, startling her. She looked up and away from her predicament and found someone leaning against a wall, not caring that he had no idea where that wall had been. He had been right there in front of her all this time and she hadn't noticed him there. Hey, maybe he was there to help her!

She knew that her faith in Jesus and God was being rewarded!

She squirmed in her bindings, making as much noise with her mouth as she could to try and get this savior of hers to come over and free her. However, the man remained where he was, leaning against the wall and making no effort to come to her aid. He just watched her, doing nothing but standing there.

Hello! She needed help! Damsel in distress, right over here! Pick it up buddy!

"I never thought you looked like a soccer mom," the man commented, still leaning against that damn wall. "In fact, before you were tapped, I didn't even know you existed. Hmfph, what were they thinking, electing a _woman_ to be a governor? Hah. I'd think it was a joke if it hadn't already have happened. Still, not surprised you quit halfway through."

What was he, a fan? She'd give him her autograph if that's what he wanted. Enough with the diatribe, get her out of here!

"A lot of people out there think you're stupid," the man continued, disregarding her distress like it was trivial, which it wasn't! "I know better. I know what you are. You're not stupid, you just have problems translating your thoughts into speech, just like our 43rd president. No, what you really are is a sociopath. The way you used to suck up to certain media faces then stop talking to them altogether, the books coming out about you, your bitch of a daughter, always having to be in the spotlight like somebody I know and loathe with my entire being. I think I'm closer to know who the real Sarah Palin is than anybody."

Sarah glared at the man, really disliking the criticism. He didn't know her! It was just the media twisting her words around into something else entirely! Wait a minute, was he a member of the media? Did he kidnap her? Oh, when she got out of here, she was going to sue him for every penny he had. She'd show him just who he was messing with!

"It's not surprising, politics has always been a magnet for sociopaths and those who have sociopathic tendencies," the man chuckled darkly. "'Take everyone with sociopathic tendencies out and the ranks of politicians would be perilously thin.' I heard someone say that once."

He was one of those liberal nuts, trying to being all philosophical. Pretty pathetic if you asked her. Heck, you wouldn't even have to ask her! She'd tell you regardless!

"But you aren't a politician anymore," the man say as he pushed himself away from the wall, stalking over to her. "You don't hold any political office, are not part of any government or government agency. What are you then? Well, with the way so many people know your name and face and those stupid books, you are what the rest of the world calls a celebrity. That's right, a bag of meat that stands in the spotlight for a short amount of time until they're torn down viciously by society, their lives an ever evolving joke that doesn't end even after death."

Sarah watched this man warily as he drew closer and closer to her with every word he uttered. She couldn't hold in her surprise though. Sure he was all dark and intimidating (also someone who didn't know when to shut up and had a horrible sense of fashion) but he was just so…so…

Short.

Swear to God, he was short.

Sadly, the same could not be said about the large knife he took out and place near her throat.

His eyes were glittering with malice (was it just her or were his eyes fucked up?) and she swore she was looking straight through a portal to Hell. That's right, Hell with a capital H. Her indignation was slowly turning into something else and the bravado she once had was not there for her any longer.

Way to ditch her, you pussy indignation.

"What's wrong, you look frightened," the short, as in really short, man said, giving her an innocent look. "Where's the fire that keeps that tea kettle boiling? Is it the knife? I can make that disappear so you don't have to worry about it."

The knife pulled away from her and she found she could breathe easier now. At least, she used to because without warning, the knife was stabbed right into her thigh. She screamed in pain and agony but her cries were muffled by the tape that was stuck to her mouth.

"See, it's gone," the short man said as if he had accomplished something great. He slipped around her and out of her sight, his hands gathering her luscious brown hair that was always styled to fit her domesticated and professional look. Right now that hair drooped around her head with nothing holding it back except for the spidery fingers that were rounding it up.

Mercilessly, the hands tightened their grip on her hair and pulled down, forcing her head backwards so that now she was looking at the ceiling, the majority of which was blocked by the head of the short man. He was grinning down at her, enjoying every second of her pain.

"Is this as good for you as it is for me?" he asked rhetorically. "Well? Speak up."

He ripped the tape off her mouth, the skin stinging under the sudden assault of cold air. Damn that stung! Wait, she could use her mouth again! This was her chance to give him a piece of her mind…or not as she did not like the look he was giving her.

"Whatever it is you want, I'll give you it," she managed to croak out. "Just name it, it's yours. I just want to see my family again…"

"Hmm, no can do," the short man said apologetically though it was obvious that he was not sorry whatsoever. "You see, there's nothing more I love to hear than the begging screams of an attention-whoring bitch as she wails in agony. There's nothing in this world that, coincidentally enough, an attention-whoring bitch like yourself could give me to make me 'accidentally' leave the lock on your chains open."

He reached over her shoulder, his hand trekking downwards and her fears began to rise. Oh, he was going to rape her! She was too innocent and pure and—cocksucking, motherfucking HELL!

Instead of heading for her crotch like she feared he was, the short man grasped at the knife handle and tore the blade out of her leg. Stained with blood, her blood, the dim light glimmered off of the blade with a macabre beauty.

"Now, get ready to use those vocal cords of yours," the short man warned her. "I want to hear you scream as loudly as you can. Don't worry about holding back; _no __one __is __going __to __hear __you_."

The knife stabbed downwards, this time ripping into her shoulder. Without the tape gagging her, she did as she was instructed, screaming and shrieking as loud as she could.

"AAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!"

Her assailant didn't hold back, pulling the knife out of her body only to stab her with it again and again, his eyes wide and filled with the same kind of joy a child would have opening Christmas presents.

"AAAAAAAHHHHHHH! AAAAAAHHHHHH! AAAAAAHHHHHH! AAAAAAAHHHHHH! AAAAAAAHHHHHHHH! BEEEEEEP! BEEEEEEP! BEEEEEEP!"

What?

Bain's eyes snapped open, his room bright with the light of the rising sun. He stared straight ahead, not really seeing anything but hearing that annoying beeping of his alarm clock.

A violent slam on the snooze button and the device shut up, leaving him in silence. Instead of sitting up or even attempting to get out from under the covers, Bain remained laying there, staring straight ahead but not really seeing anything.

The last traces of the dream were slipping through his grasp but really, he only wanted to hold on to a few details. Whatever his subconscious had conjured up, it was taking back but by now he had a fair idea of what visions he had entertained whilst in dreamland.

Finally, he stretched an arm out and snagged the notebook that rested unassumingly on the night stand. He turned onto his back and opened the notebook, flipping through the pages rapidly, skipping over various notes and plots that had not been attempted just yet. Stopping on one page, he gripped a mechanical pencil and pressed its lead tip against the page, marking downward to leave a tally.

Sarah Palin: III

Hers wasn't the only name on the list. Others included Jane Adams, Hilary Clinton, Nancy Drew, Susan B. Anthony (whom had the most tally marks), Margaret Thatcher, Miley Cyrus, and as a recent addition Michelle Bachmann.

Yes, it was a tally of how many dreams he had of torturing and mutilating various historic and high profile women. He really had nothing else better to do with his time.

Closing the notebook and setting it back into its proper place on his nightstand, he finally sat up, blinking blearily like he had just woken up a second ago and not a few minutes. The light coming through the window was a prime sign that it was indeed day and he had to do a few "errands" today while he still could. Thus the alarm clock that interrupted the closest thing he had to wet dreams.

It would serve as practice, he mused, once Spring Break came to a close and it was back to the final stretch of senior year. Back to the grind stone, finishing up classes, receiving letters from prospective colleges, and suffering the company of the morons he had to endure on a daily basis.

Such was life. Well, if he had to be misery's bitch, then he was going to find a bitch of his own so that he could put them out of their misery. Misery loves company and whatnot.

Finally getting out from the bedcovers, he headed for the closet, snagging his black trenchcoat along the way.

* * *

><p>Author's Note: Charming, wasn't it? According to the poll I put up for <em>Fiends<em>, asking for the most popular character (and then forgetting to close it), it was this guy who got first place with eight votes. And it is this guy from which your OC may have to suffer with, hence the high probability of death. So, for those not put off by everyone's favorite homicidal, sociopathic OC, the submission form is below. Space is limited and it will take longer than usual for the next chapter to be posted. Still working out a few kinks with the story and having a better idea of who I'll be using with change the game plan. Try to stick with the parameters below, I don't want the whole lifestory but just enough info to accurately depict the character. I'm not a mind reading so I don't know who the character is or could be. Also, the LESBIAN/MUFFDIVER question is for females only. What are they? Two groups of girls working against one another to grab the loves of their lives, even if it means sabotaging the other group. Want a better idea of who they are, once again _Fiends_ has the answers. On a last note, the more original the character, the more likely they'll be selected. Until next time, submit and wait for the fireworks to begin.

Name:

Gender:

Appearance:

Clothing:

Personality:

Likes:

Dislikes:

Friends:

Enemies:

Crush:

Basic History:

For girls only - LESBIAN or MUFFDIVER:

Other:


	2. Returning from the Break

Author's Note: Diving back into the world of South Park as I left it in _Fiends_ so there will be a lack of descriptions for many of the characters. By now I'm getting a handle on the roles many of the characters are going to play. Of course, no one is going to know what role a character will have until I really start getting into the plot. What is the plot? Not going to reveal that in this chapter and probably not for a couple more. Instead, you all are going to have to figure that one out. Like a South Park episode, expect the unexpected. On that note, South Park has been extended up to twenty seasons. With the end of season fifteen, we still have five more seasons left to enjoy. Hearing that news really made me want to finish this chapter as soon as I could. Enjoy.

Disclaimer: I do not own South Park.

Warning: language, lots of references to other fics

Returning from the Break

"Poopsykins, it's time to get up," a sweet, motherly voice that could only belong to Liane Cartman sang through the air.

On a small bed, a large mound rumbled, shifting around as it sought to try and escape the voice as well as consciousness for that matter.

Not put out at the slightest, the patient woman called out again, "Honey, you really need to get up. It's a school day today."

"But maaaaaammmmm!" a whiny voice, well, whined. "I'm too tired. I need a little more sleeeeepppp!"

"But honey, you'll miss your bus," Liane warned.

"I wouldn't miss it if you'd get me a _car_," the voice warned.

"I'm sorry, Eric, but I can't afford to buy you a new car right now," the woman said apologetically. "Anyway, if you don't get up now, you'll miss your usual bus and have to take the late bus."

Silence. Then the hulking bump on the bed erupted as a unkempt Eric Cartman scrambled to his closet.

"MOM! How could you let me sleep this late!" he bellowed as he grabbed the first articles of clothing he could get his hands on.

"I tried to get you up earlier but you refused," his mother said.

"Then you should have tried harder!" Cartman exclaimed as he struggled to pull his pants on. Not an easy feat when you're balancing on one foot and you're not the most athletic person in town. "What am I paying you for if—whoa! Crap!" There went his balance.

A few minutes later, he was racing out his house, a well-balanced breakfast radiating heat from the large plate it rested on in hand, which he was shoveling into his mouth.

"Be sure to bring it back after school!" his mother called after him, not in the least bit perturbed by her son's antics.

Naturally, Cartman ignored her as he heaved and panted towards the bus stop. He had to get there, he didn't want to face the horror of—wait, that was his bus! And it was at the stop! Noooooooo!

"Wait!" he cried out. "Don't leave me ya asshole!"

Unfortunately for him, just as he reached the bus it was pulling away from the stop.

"EY! STOP THIS BROKEN DOWN PIECE OF SHIT! Ey!" Heedless of his demands, the bus was leaving and it was leaving without him, the best thing this crappy town had ever had the pleasure of hosting. "Son of a bitch!" Cartman swore as he kicked at the melting snow.

Great, this was just perfect. If his mom hadn't been a pushover, he wouldn't have been late for the bus. Hell, if his mother had just gotten him a _car_, he wouldn't have to worry about missing the bus. And if his asshole friends weren't assholes, he could have bummed a ride from them and still demand a car from his bitch of a mother. This fucking sucked!

He had no choice but to finish the rest of his breakfast, miraculously still on the plate he held in his hands. He needed the comfort because the horror that awaited him on the last bus was just…traumatizing.

Twenty agonizing minutes later, a rickety yellow bus coughing illegal amounts of carbon monoxide from its exhaust pipe came to a stop in front of him. Slowly, ominously, the doors pried themselves opened with a loud, annoying screeching, revealing the terror and disgruntlement that could only be found in one person on this Godforsaken planet.

"What're you standin' thar, tubby tits," the infamous bus driver, formally known as the best Goddamn TSA personnel this side of the Hemisphere demanded.

"Good morning…whatever your name is," Cartman grumbled as he trudged up the steps to almost certain death, resigned to his hellish fate.

"Good? Mornin'?" the bus driver repeated, glaring at the husky teen. "You think this is a 'good morning' when I have ta get up at an ungodly hour just so I get tha pleasure to drive your pathetic, entitled asses ta adult daycare? And you think it's a 'good mornin'?' Why, when I was your damn age, I had to walk over flesh burning, hot coals just ta get offa mah porch! None of yous asswipes would last an hour durin' mah childhood!"

A pause as Cartman stared at the man.

The bus driver glared back.

Cartman continued to stare back, slackjawed.

"Now sit your ass on da bus!" the bus driver roared.

"Yes sir," Cartman said quietly, head bowed.

It was best not to make contact with it. That would only piss it off more.

Seeing that he wasn't the only person who was late (that's Spring Break for you dumbasses), Cartman took the first seat he could squeeze into. It just so happened to only be about three seats behind the bus driver himself and the person who would enjoy his presence this morning was a girl he knew as Brianna Vargas.

Yeah, he knew her name just like he knew the names of everyone in school. He made it a point to know the list of potential scapegoats he had to abuse all in the name of taking another step up in the social hierarchy. How else were you going to put them at ease so you could fuck them over when they least expected it? "Hey you, what's your face!" goes over so well.

The short haired brunette spared him a glance with her dulled brown eyes, returning her gaze to the front without lingering on his fabulous form. Cartman didn't mind it but really, it would have given him a much needed ego boost, especially since showing up to school on the last bus was totally uncool and he was supposed to be cool.

The bus door creeked, squealing loudly as they closed and the bus lurched forward as the driver pressed the petal to the metal. Almost as soon as he did that, he slammed on the break, the tired screeching as a hard right turn was made, a passing-by car almost getting run over.

"Oh please God, don't let me die here," Cartman prayed as he clasped his hands together. "I so do not deserve to die today. I have always been faithful to you, unlike those greedy Jewrats, and—"

"Can you shut up?" Brianna snapped at him while bracing herself against the seat in front of them. "I am so not in the mood for this shit."

"Ey! Don't tell me to shut up you ho!" Cartman snapped at her. "I do what I want!"

There was a loud ripping sound, one easily identified as a fart. Brianna wrinkled her nose at him, disgusted. "Oh, that's so mature of you."

"Fuck off bitch, that wasn't me!" Cartman protested.

"Sure it wasn't, it was just your fat ass rubbing against the seat," Brianna snarked back.

"I don't have a fat ass, you anorexic cunt," Cartman fired back.

"I'm not even…where'd you come up with that?" Brianna growled at him.

"It's easy. You're skinny, probably think you're fat but project those emotions on innocent me so you can feel better," Cartman explained to her. "I bet once we get off this deathtrap, you're gonna run to the bathroom and puke up the lick of butter you had for breakfast."

"Whatever," Brianna rolled her eyes at him. "I honestly can't figure out where those delusions of yours come from."

"Fuck you too! I am not delusional," Cartman defended himself. A minute of quiet passed between them before there was another loud ripping sound.

However, before Brianna could accuse him unjustly of doing something he didn't do, the kid in the seat in front of them began gagging and choking, clutching at his throat as if he had breathed in some kind of mustard gas.

Then from the driver's seat, "Those freakin' chinchillas are kickin' mah ass."

The two teens looked at one another in horror as they realized just who really farted, a horror further emphasized when someone in the back cried out that the windows wouldn't open.

One horrible bus ride that can only be reenacted as a horror film and still fall short of the horror the riders experienced later, the bus came to a jerking stop in front of the school where various students were running for the hills. The driver of this particular bus had a track record of running over any student who wasn't smart enough to take cover in the school. The doors opened and all the unfortunate souls who had been forced onto the decrepit contraption piled out, many kissing the very earth in relief.

Coming to from a near death coma, Cartman struggled out of his seat, Brianna not beside him as she had climbed over him to get off the bus as soon as possible, and made his way off.

Before he left, though, he turned to the bus driver who was sneering at him. "I'll make you pay for this. Just you wait, I'll make you eat your parents."

The bus driver guffawed at him. "Joke's on you, I already ate my parents. Tasted like Mama's homemade chicken."

"Your brothers and sisters, whatever!" Cartman snapped exasperated.

"Joke's on you again…"

Hoping to save whatever sanity he had left, Cartman modeled his fellow students and leapt off the bus. It was probably important to note that quite a few of those students were still in a dogpile in front of the bus itself and Cartman landed right on top of them.

* * *

><p>Marveling, but not quite doing so, DJ Callahan reacquainted herself with the hallways of South Park High. She had spent an entire semester sitting out from this place, her parents wanting her to leave behind the chaos of this place for more stable surroundings.<p>

That and they hoped that her cynical and mean personality would thaw in a more nurturing place.

As if.

Sure the people at the last two schools she attended called her the Ice Bitch and she did make more than a handful of people cry but it was all for the sole purpose of returning here. At the start of her senior spring semester, she had walked back through the doors of South Park High.

Why had she been so determined to come back here? Why had she gotten herself a horrible reputation as a disruptive student, so much so that no other school in Colorado would accept her?

Well, it began back in her final months as a junior in high school and…screw this shit, she was going for the short version. Alright, long story short, about the end of her junior year, she had been kidnapped and turned into a human popsicle. You cannot imagine just how cold it could get when you were surrounded by ice and frozen in time, forced to watch everything around you but not be able to do anything.

Who had done this to her, you might be asking. One name was all that was required.

Bain Cynis.

For a short time, he claimed to be an amnesiac but he hadn't fooled her. She had gotten too close to the truth and that was why he had frozen her. Little had she known that she was only a test, a warm-up to an even bigger event. How long had Bain been planning to freeze the school, she did not know, but he had done it and had gotten away with it scot-free.

Well, she wouldn't let him get away with it but if she couldn't prove he was responsible, she would just find something else. Unfortunately, Bain proved to be more slippery than she had anticipated. So here she was, halfway through the spring semester and nowhere closer to avenging herself against the creep than she had when she was literally thawed out practically one year ago.

But she was determined. And mean, could not forget that one.

And she was going to direct some…no, a lot of that meanness in that psychopath's direction as soon as she figured out just what it was that would hurt him the worst.

Until then, she would have to…ugh…lower herself to spending time with all the gossips, listening in for a potential tip that might be the thing she needed. For once in her life, she had a goal and a goal that she was motivated to reach for. A real shocker, really. Not to be a faggy optimist, but it would be so worth it to show that bastard up right in his face.

In the meantime, she had to figure a way around his dogs. That was where sticking close to all the gossips came into play. Sometime since the last time she dealt with him, Bain had gained a couple of followers.

The first was his "wife" Charlie White. There was definitely something different about the girl when DJ returned to South Park High. As she soon found out, Charlie was going out with Bain, as in boyfriend and girlfriend going out. DJ never caught them on a date, no matter how hard she tried, but there was a hyper vigilance that Charlie was expressing. It was mostly towards Bain and DJ had yet to figure out just what it meant.

The second dog she mentioned was a pink-haired girl whom DJ didn't even know the name of. If she hadn't known any better, she would have said this extremely bland girl was stalking Bain. Really, DJ had caught this new, pink-haired menace following after her vertically challenged nemesis on more than one occasion and always with this expression on her face that DJ viewed as belonging to a fangirl.

DJ had the displeasure of running into the girl (really, what the hell was her name and why were people always calling out "power of the sun"?) and finding out that the girl was not watching Bain out of some kind of grudge. After a ten minute spiel of squealing and talk about real-life slashers, DJ had thrown her hands up and made a daring escape.

It was creepy and it was also odd that the sexist pig that was Bain had these bodyguards who were also female. Fucking illogical.

So she found herself in the uncomfortable desks that the school claimed were employees (South Park High was a job creator!) and listening in on Bebe and her cronies…er, "friends." DJ knew the drill, popular kids didn't have friends but just used the word as a way to label their groupies. She had "helpfully" mentioned that back in junior high, cementing her reputation then as a cold bitch.

"Can't the school, like, give us another week off for Spring Break?" Bebe asked her "friends." "Five days off is just not enough."

"Amen to that!" a random girl agreed.

"And they have to make us come back on a Monday, what's up with that?" Bebe complained. "I need my beauty rest, you know. Looks like these aren't just handed out!"

"Are you saying that getting beauty rest will make guys more attracted to you?" a girl DJ vaguely recalled as Bonnie Snyder asked contemplatively. At least DJ thought the girl's name was Bonnie. Hmm, long, wavy hair, green-colored doe eyes, a slender build, covered in pink…could describe quite a few girls in this school but DJ decided not to dwell on it. What did she care if she remembered this girl's, Bonnie's name or not? She didn't.

"It's the most important thing!" Bebe exclaimed. "Without proper rest, you get those hard to get rid of bags under your eyes that you have to cover up! Bags are like repellent to a guy unless they're really, really horny."

"So Kenny wouldn't be attracted to me if I had bags under my eyes!" Bonnie or whatever her name was gasped in horror.

"It depends," Bebe shrugged. "If you used mascara, it'll redirect their attention. Guys like that dark look in your eyes 'cause it makes it look like you're thinking of sex and we all know that sex is all guys think about."

"I don't think that's true," Bonnie argued. "I think guys want to be nice to a girl but only act like jerks because that's what others expect of them."

Christ, DJ could feel her brain cells committing suicide one by one. When were they going to stop talking about guys? Wait, stupid question. Guys and getting them into bed were what all the shallow bimbos in this school talked about. Why had she thought that she could learn anything else from them?

"Bonnie, you can't really believe that," she heard Bebe admonish. "Don't you remember Rod? How he started out as a nice guy but was just a freaky player? Still, I've never had anyone as good as him. Could barely walk for a week after that!"

There was laughter which sounded more like clucks to DJ but she didn't care. Her already foul mood was becoming worse and she could only hope that the ends would make the means worth it.

* * *

><p>Stan had her where he wanted her. She was a wily opponent, one that he had to work hard in order to take down but he liked the challenge, thrived on it. It was more a battle of both wits and skill, unlike football where you needed to be more physical to get where you wanted to go.<p>

She was just so slippery; one moment you had her and the next you had a grenade blowing you up under your feet, your avatar flying through the air with a scream. But now he had a way to level the playing ground and there was no way she was going to get the best of him this time.

Kyra looked up at him with wide eyes, her back against the lockers as Stan had his hands pressed against them, blocking her way. She had no idea what he had in store for her but that was okay. It wasn't often he got the chance to catch her off her A-game but whenever he did, it was always so sweet.

"I've been waiting all Spring Break for this," he told her, his voice husky. Oh yeah, he was laying the charm out here.

"For what?" Kyra nearly squeaked.

"You know how you finally caved in last month and agreed to be my girlfriend?" he asked her, boring his blue eyes in her, his irises darken with what could only be considered lust.

"Yeah…" Kyra said slowly, not knowing where he was going with this.

He chuckled as he risked pulling an arm back, opening a possible escape route for her so that he could dive a hand into his coat pocket. He was slightly grateful that she didn't take the chance he gave her and so pulled out the folded, thin strip of paper that he had been carrying.

"Here," he said as he placed it in her hands.

She looked at him in puzzlement before unfolding the paper. "This is a receipt," she stated, her confusion growing.

"Read it," he urged.

"Hey Kenny," she began reading out loud, "you'd better suck my dick for this—"

"Oops! Wrong one," he said hastily as he snatched the receipt back and pulled out another. He wasn't going to say it out loud but he hoped this was the right one. How could he have forgotten about that other thing, the thing that his perverted blond friend had asked him for? Well, that wasn't here nor there. What was was hopefully this new receipt he pulled out.

Unfolding this one, Kyra raised an eyebrow at him. "This is a…preorder? What for?"

Stan smirked, waiting for it.

"Halo…Anniversary?" Kyra read, eyes widening. She looked up from the receipt and up into the twinkling eyes of her supremely awesome boyfriend. That probably wasn't the same words she was using but Stan figured he'd put the words out there for narration purposes.

"Happy one month anniversary," he told her with a warm smile on his lips.

"Stan, you didn't have to do this," she said.

"I wanted to," he said. "I know we haven't been going out long and—"

"I just pre-ordered it yesterday," Kyra stated.

"—I wanted…what?"

"I went to Best Buy yesterday and pre-ordered this game," Kyra explained solemnly. "I had some extra cash laying around and…I'm sorry Stan."

"Oh," Stan said, staring blandly at a point over her head. "I see. Well…hey, how about you just give me it for our one month anniversary? Then everything will be okay!"

"Sure…okay," Kyra agreed, unsure though Stan didn't hear that. He was much too into his brilliant idea.

"This couldn't have worked out better!" he said. "Now we can play with each other online! And kick some n00b ass! It's great!"

Whew! What a close one! Almost messed this one up. At least she didn't get annoyed with him unlike someone he could name. Now who was that someone he could name? Well, whatever, he was safe and that was what counted!

"Sorry to break up your make-out time but I gotta get in my locker," a voice that Stan automatically recognized as belonging to his best friend deadpanned. His gaffe with his girlfriend nearly forgotten, he looked over his shoulder and sent the redheaded Jew a smile, said Jew not looking impressed in the slightest. Then again, it wasn't often that Kyle was impressed.

Try living in a town where the most insane shit went down and see if you were easily impressed.

"My locker?" Kyle raised an eyebrow at him.

Pfft, as if he had forgotten! Now which one was Kyle's…? Oh, they were right in front of it. Wow, he hadn't known that Kyra had a locker that was close to Kyle's!

"Sorry," Kyra said softly to Kyle, squirming where she stood.

"Yeah, just, hold on," Stan said as he picked Kyra off the floor by her shoulders and shuffled to a side. Putting Kyra back on her feet, Stan resumed his previous position, his arms blocking off any chance of escape from Kyra.

"Thanks," Kyle stated as he began putting his combination into the lock dial.

"Didn't hear from you during the break," Stan said causally. "Where were you?"

"Israel," Kyle simply stated. "After the shit that happened last year, my family wanted to take a quick trip there and sightsee. I know I told you that before I left."

"Oh. Did…did you have fun?" Stan asked hesitantly.

"As long as nobody's suicide bombing or shooting rockets at the place, Israel's pretty nice," Kyle shrugged.

"Were your parents annoying or something?" Stan asked. "Did they drag you all over the place? You don't sound like you had a fun time."

"I just got in late last night Stan," Kyle sighed. "I'm jetlagged. Just don't bother me today. I'll tell you more later."

"Okay," Stan answered, watching as Kyle retrieved his books and left. As soon as Kyle was a distance away, he turned back to Kyra and turned the charm back on. "So, where were we?" he asked.

Kyra merely sighed and rolled her eyes.

* * *

><p>Look at them all, running about, searching for friends and acquaintances so that they could spill all the gory details of their weeklong holiday. Bain snorted at it all. Odds were most didn't leave the state and those who did brought along their little buddies so describing all the fun they had was redundant.<p>

With one exception, no one paid him any mind as he headed towards his first class of the day. Whether he would admit it or not, he was on the lookout for someone, someone he hadn't seen since the break had begun. He hadn't seen nor heard from Charlotte the entire break and though he'd never say, much less think, it, he…missed her. Oy, that was hard to put into thought.

The stubborn personality, the bravado that was her signature, the way she didn't let him push her around and challenged him, he had become accustomed to it and so when it was abruptly taken away…

Safe to say, he was on edge and it didn't help that the fan he had following him didn't help. You kill someone right in front of them and instead of turning you in, they become your devoted aficionado. He supposed that her blandness helped in concealing this development from everyone but it made him paranoid whenever a flash of pink would appear in his peripheral.

What was her name again? It had to do with the sun, he knew that much. Really, she was so forgettable that there would be days that he would forget that he had an admirer. For some reason, though, zombies kept popping up in his mind as soon as he thought about her. There was that zombie outbreak a couple of months ago and he vaguely recalled that she was involved with it somehow.

Wait, hadn't she come up to him, asking for him to kill someone new in her life? It wasn't her last boyfriend but he could have sworn that a boyfriend to someone was somehow included.

Probably wasn't important to him anyway; he had been too busy playing devil's advocate with Charlotte. Did it help that at that time, the end of the world, nay, existence had been on the line? Probably not but Bain had never been one to accommodate anyone.

The business with the end of existence bit had most likely been the reason why he hadn't seen Charlotte over the break, though. It was just a suspicion; nothing had come up to confirm it. So until Charlotte made her return, he would just have to share his misery with everyone else, wouldn't he?

The two victims he had claimed over the break had only provided moderate relief. Suffering of others was indeed his drug of choice but he figured that he needed a different tact. Killing someone just made the suffering temporary; keeping them alive so they could suffer more was going to be more fulfilling.

Should he start with his stalking fan? Nah, too easy. Charlotte dear, you had spoiled him. Now he craved a challenged in whatever he did now.

He was ignored as he took a seat in his first class but he naturally didn't care. Attention had never really been something he wanted. Maybe at one point in his life but not at this one. Others may thrive on it though it wouldn't be his cup of tea.

From the corner of his eye, he could see the pink-haired girl peering at him, biting her lip as if waiting for him to do something. What was he, some kind of zoo exhibit? Maybe he should end her pathetic lifespan. Odds were she wasn't going to amount to anything anyway so it would be a humane service to save her from all the future grief she would experience. And on the plus side, it would be one less woman on this planet.

See, he did think of others.

Had he not been looking towards the door, he would have missed the person who had been in the forefront of his mind for the past nine days. After not seeing her for so long, too long in fact, the first time he got a glimpse of his better half was when she passed by his classroom on her way to class. He'd get up to see if he wasn't seeing things but he was patient. It would gnaw at his mind, sure, but he was good at delayed gratification.

Besides, he thought he saw a black petal flutter to the floor in her passing. If so, then she had found his surprise. And no, it wasn't a dead animal this time.

* * *

><p>Bain had been in her locker again, Charlie groaned to herself. How he knew her combination or was able to get into the school to pull this shit, she did not know and hadn't cared to find out.<p>

He was overdoing it this time. The moment she had opened the small, metal storage unit, she had been confronted with a bouquet of black roses, all of them shriveled and dead. She swore she was going to make him clean it up as it was bitch to get all those wrinkled petals out.

That didn't mean she didn't feel a twinge of guilt, though. She…she had been busy and where she had been, there were no phones. The only way to communicate with people on the outside was through Ouija boards. She also knew that when Bain wasn't preoccupied, he tended to pull stunts, ones that ended up with a loss of life on someone else's part.

Behind her, her best friend in the world looked at the gift and snorted. "Ees et me or ees someone 'round 'ere being obvious?" Christophe, a.k.a. ze Mole, asked her rhetorically.

"I've been ignoring him; he's probably just trying to say 'look at me you cunt,'" Charlie shrugged as she slid out a couple books.

"Ees zat a card?" Christophe wondered, drawing Charlie's attention to the small notecard that had fallen out of her locker.

"If it's from an anonymous admirer, they'd better be running for the hills or pray Bain doesn't find out about it," Charlie said sarcastically, knowing full well who left it. She raised an eyebrow as she read the small writing, recognizing it as Bain's.

"Zo you don't worry, I 'ave been avoiding bodies of water more than one foot deep," Christophe read over her shoulder.

Charlie snorted as she crushed the card in her fist. "Asshole," she muttered. "He almost drowns that one time and he has to make me suffer for it."

"I didn't see all of et," Christopher said. "You mind if—"

"It just added that he has no need for more CPR from a Frenchie bitch with an epilepsy fetish," Charlie told him.

"Zat asshole," Christophe growled. "You'd zink he'd be more grateful to ze people who saved 'is miserable ass."

"He wouldn't be…well, Bain, if he didn't try to piss someone off," Charlie said. Staring at the asshole's unique way of courting her, she added, "I'm still making him clean this up."

"Why not throw et away?" Christophe asked her. "Your locker will just smell like dead roses."

"It probably already does," Charlie grumbled. "Who knows when he planted it there?"

"Zo breaking an' entering should also be added to 'is rap sheet, eh?" he chuckled.

"God only knows what offenses he's committed behind my back," Charlie said snarkily. "Speaking of offenses, you've been keeping an eye on Annon, right? I wouldn't put it past him to try something behind my back."

"She's safe," Christophe shrugged. "Even if 'e wanted to, 'e wouldn't 'ave been able to 'urt 'er. I took her to my homeland for ze break."

"Thank whoever for small graces," Charlie muttered. "So, have you seen him today yet?"

"If I ever see 'im again, et will be too soon," Christophe grumbled. "No, I 'aven't an' I'm not sure I want to."

"It's always best to know his mood before him," Charlie said. "If I don't run into him between classes, it'll be at lunch."

"You almost sound like you dread et," Christophe pointed out. "Ever consider leaving 'im?"

"As if," Charlie snorted. "I know what you're thinking, _mon__amie_, but things between Bain and me aren't like that."

"Could have fooled me," Christophe replied. "From ze way you speak, et ees as if you're one of 'is possessions. Et reminds me of those relationships where ze 'usband beats ze wife."

"Please," Charlie retorted. "If anything, it's the other way around. He's mine."

She knew Christophe was giving her an odd look at that statement but since when had she ever cared what others thought of her?

"You are going to 'ave to explain ze dynamics of zis someday," Christophe told her. "Et sounds really fucked up."

"We're all a bit fucked up, aren't we?" Charlie stated more than asked. "Some people are just more fucked up than others."

"I'd give you a recommendation for psychiatric treatment but I'm afraid you'd drive ze doctor insane instead."

"Under the terms of my future employment, I have to," Charlie shrugged.

"Speaking of zat, where is your ward?" Christophe asked.

"Would you be surprised if I told you he got sick over the weekend? He'll be back in the next couple of days. You wouldn't believe how immature Damien can get; he was practically driving me crazy. He's got this obsession over Kyle, Broflovski in case you forgot, and he was whining and demanding I call him over."

"I do not know what possessed you to agree to zis," Christophe grumbled. "I 'ust 'ope you know what you are doing."

"You know me," Charlie chuckled.

"Zat is why I worry," Christophe muttered.

* * *

><p>It wasn't the abandoned classroom at the back of the school right next to the band room but Gwendolyn supposed that the abandoned classroom on the second floor right next to the tech room would have to do. The only downside was that it didn't have the abandoned gavel of Judge G. Douché and she loved banging that abandoned gavel so much.<p>

She'd have to get over it as the leader of the newly formed Many Unfortunate Females Focusing Deliberately and Intentionally Very Egotistical and Randy group.

Or, as she liked to call it, MUFFDIVER.

Once upon a time, she had founded a group she called the Last Especially Scorned Bitches in a Nation, or LESBIAN. The sole purpose of this group was to help other girls get the loves of their lives as well as get some much needed attention from a convoluted plot that they weren't getting and rightfully deserved. However, the group was hijacked from her and she was kicked out.

Unfortunately for those traitors, Gwendolyn was not a person who would fall and stay down. No, she could be a vindictive bitch when she wanted to and it was from out of that that she formed the rival group MUFFDIVER. It was easy to attract new members and even steal away LESBIAN members and soon she had her own impressive force of girls ready to get what they wanted.

Romance, a handsome guy, and Goddamn it some screen time.

But most importantly, Gwendolyn needed to be in charge. Didn't matter what she was in charge with so long as she was in charge. That way she could be sure that things went the way she wanted them to be.

"Alright MUFFDIVERs, I know you're skipping out on boring class time but I am more than please to convene our first official meeting since before Spring Break," she announced to the girls who were watching her aptly. "I see we have a few new members," she noted as she gazed around the abandoned classroom. "Senior members, make sure that our new members feel welcomed, tell them about how things work around here, yadda yadda, now let's get to the good stuff.

"We're all still single here, right girls?" she asked out loud, getting a few embarrassed yeses from those brave enough to answer. "Well, that's the purpose of this group, to change that embarrassing statuses. How do we do that? By hooking up with our soul mates, the loves of our lives. By ourselves, we are unable to look at these fine pieces of ass but together, we can accomplish what we can't alone.

"However, we are not alone in banning together. We have an enemy: the LESBIANs! They seek to do the same thing as us but we're not going to let them get away with it! Not only must we get our men but we must sabotage their efforts or else we'll remain in singledom that has a population that consists only of losers and are we losers? No!

"Now, before we really start working towards our goals, we must declare in front of everyone—"

"Dibs on Clyde!" a girl interrupted her.

With eyes so blue they were nearly purple, Gwendolyn glared at the girl who dared to interrupt her. Holy crap was that a guy? No, no, the chest was too…busty to be a guy so it was definitely a girl though the short black hair did not help in feminizing her. Even though she was sitting, this girl was noticeable bigger than the others with a pair of dark brown eyes that was daring her to challenge her on her claim.

Gwendolyn had never met the girl in her life and she shied away from the spiked choker she wore. It was only really now that Gwendolyn realized that she was surrounded by girls she really didn't know and if this specimen was a representative of what MUFFDIVER was going to be, the founder was starting to have a second thoughts about this.

No! No, she couldn't have any doubts! LESBIAN had betrayed her and tossed her aside when it didn't need her anymore. Well, she'd show them all that they needed her more than she did them!

"Um, who are you?" Gwendolyn asked, narrowing her eyes at her interrupter.

"Ella. Elle Robinson," the girl with the spiked choker answered, crossing her arms over her chest as she stared Gwendolyn down.

"Ella. Well, Ella, you know it's rude to interrupt someone when they're speaking," Gwendolyn chastised the girl.

"Didn't know that," Ella shrugged, not really caring. "Guys interrupt each other all the time."

"We're not guys," Gwendolyn said frankly. "Girls are different."

"Coulda fooled me," Ella replied, nonplussed.

Gwendolyn had a feeling she was going to be at odds with this girl. It was one of those gut feelings. Sure, this Ella girl sounded laidback and all but there was something else about her, other than her boyish appearance, that rubbed Gwendolyn the wrong way. If she was going to be anything like those bitches Brittany and Bonnie, she was going to have to make sure her base was not eroded.

"Right. Well, we girls have something called protocol," Gwendolyn said. "And according to protocol, the girl in charge gets dibs on anyone first."

She could hear the mutterings among the other girls as they began eyeing her suspiciously. Ella raised an eyebrow, a nonverbal challenge to her authority if Gwendolyn ever saw one.

"Hey, I took a chance and sent out the call, girls," she argued. "Would any of you have done it? I deserve at least a little something for putting myself on the line."

This time there were mutters of agreement though a few were still eyeing her.

"And have you guys forgotten about the LESBIANs?" Gwendolyn put out there. "They too have made their claims and they're going to conflict with ours. It's best that we figure who wants which guy and try to limit any dissention among us. United, we can do anything but divided, we'll fall.

"Now, I call dibs on Stan Marsh. Does anybody have a problem with that?"

Some mutterings but it didn't sound like she stepped on any toes. Hey, she was getting better at this—

"Doesn't he have a girlfriend?"

"Who said that?" Gwendolyn snapped, searching the abandoned classroom.

An arm rose up and Gwendolyn turned her gaze towards a fair-skinned girl with ringlets in her raven-colored hair. Now this girl looked like the kind of girl that Gwendolyn was used to dealing with and looked familiar—wait, she knew this girl! Violet Robins! She hung out with her and Bebe sometimes. Nice girl there if a little naïve at times.

Dug the hair a bit, particularly with its length. Went down just about to the small of her back and it would probably be longer if she undid the ringlets.

"I said that," Violet said cheerfully, heedless of the other girls who were watching her now.

"Okay," Ella said slowly, apparently taken aback by the cheerfulness.

"Are you talking about that girl he's been hanging around?" Gwendolyn grounded out.

"Kyra McCloud? That's who Wendy says is Stan's new girlfriend," Violet confirmed, her brown eyes radiating with liveliness.

"You're talking about Wendy 1, right?" Ella asked, wanting to be sure.

"Wendy's spreading some lies is what she's doing," Gwendolyn cut in, trying to prevent the conversation from heading towards her most reviled nickname. She was not Wendy 2, Goddamn it! "She's probably trying to keep people from trying to flirt with Stan."

"You think so?" Violet asked, her head tilting to a side.

"I know so," Gwendolyn stated boldly. "I went out with Stan as his girlfriend before and there's no doubt in my mind that he only broke up with me because Wendy Testaburger wanted him back. I think it's time we put an end to that on-again, off-again relationship because how many seasons do we have to sit through watching that shit?"

"It's been a few months since Wendy broke up with him," Ella shrugged. "It was real nasty that time. I know, I was there. She said that he couldn't please her in the sack and that she faked it."

"First of all, I'd like to say that Stan is a fucking _god_ in bed," Gwendolyn corrected, butting in. She needed to defend her man's honor! Starting now could only help her cause.

"Stan porked you?" Ella asked.

"My God, that's horrible Ella!" Gwendolyn shouted, aghast. "He didn't pork me! He made love to me!"

"Isn't that the same thing?" Ella asked, confused.

"There's a difference between making love and," here she paused as she nearly struggled to say the next word, "_porking_. They're nothing alike!"

"You really know a lot," Violet said, eyes practically sparkling as she took in Gwendolyn's every word.

"I don't like to brag," Gwendolyn said, look abashed. Shaking her head, she decided to get back to business. "Is there anyone you have your eye on Violet? Anyone you'd like to claim?"

"I don't know if I should say," Violet said shyly. "What if someone else…?"

"We won't know unless you tell us," Gwendolyn told her gently. "It's safe here."

Other girls were chiming in, agreeing with her statement. Gwendolyn could feel the power she was wielding now and she liked it. She liked it a lot.

"I've liked him for a long time," Violet said. "Do you think I have a chance with Kyle?"

* * *

><p>OCs used:<p>

The Bus Driver: **ShadowMajin**

Brianna Vargas: **FunkyChicken001**

DJ Callahan: **Fast-Road-To-Nowhere**

Bonnie Snyder: **PinkParka**

Kyra McCloud: **Beyond-The-Horizon**

Sunny Grain (the pink-haired girl): **CherrySlim**

Charlotte "Charlie" White: **Zephyr Morpheus Lee**

Gwendolyn Long: **HoAcrazylover**

Ella Robinson: **Cupcake Queen Liz**

Violet Robins: **Colour Me Magic**


	3. A Kenny Heavy Chapter

Author's Note: Despite the last update in being in November, it only took about two or three days to write this thing. Three-fourths of it happened only yesterday so that means an early update for you guys. Still a few references from the first two installments and a little something left over from the standalone _Dance of the Devils_. See if you long-time readers can pick it out. Enjoy.

Disclaimer: I do not own South Park.

Warning: language

A Kenny Heavy Chapter

Kenny was having a problem. Was it a problem that could potentially doom the world or end with the whole town being attacked and cannibalized?

No. No, he was just having trouble staying awake. In class. Where Dr. Gunn was droning on and on about some writer guy who he had never heard of or didn't care to know about.

It wasn't his fault that he was having trouble being conscious. He had been up late and hadn't gotten much sleep. So yeah, he was pretty tired and it didn't help that the good doctor up front had a voice that could put Ben Stein to sleep.

You know, he wouldn't be so tired if he hadn't had to deal with someone moving in on his turf. And once again, no, it wasn't the turf of perversion that he had eagerly claimed when all the guys' balls dropped at the same time back in the seventh grade. It was his other turf, the one that had him perched on the rooftops of South Park, keeping vigil over a town that would fall to pieces if someone didn't care enough about it.

Normally, he wouldn't mind any extra help on that front. Lord knows, he could use all the help he could get. Keep the streets clean, beat up a person who thought they could spray graffiti on the side of Tom's Rhinoplasty, and get back home by bedtime. Stuff like that.

This person, and he wouldn't name names here, wasn't what he would have liked trolling the streets. The enthusiasm was admirable and that wasn't the problem. It was the sole fact that this person was just so _bad_ at it. Really, they were the world's most incompetent masked vigilante. He had to keep an extra eye on them while performing his usual duties and that was exhausting.

So that, in a nutshell, summed up his weekend. His body ached from all the activity he demanded of it, his mind couldn't add two plus two without ending up with five, and here the self-important teacher who mandated everyone call him doctor was doing his best to make this class more boring than it already was.

"So students, that is why Stevenson should be drawn and quartered then forced to walk the plank," Dr. Gunn instructed as he finished up with the strange drawing he had made on the dry erase board. Kenny couldn't be sure but it looked a stick figure with swords sticking out of it like a porcupine standing on an island (or was that a ship?) and sucking on something that may or may not be a dick. "The bastard stereotyped pirates and what did they ever do to him? They never robbed or pillaged him so he had no right— no right!—to come up with that abomination that is Long John Silver.

"That ends my lesson on _Treasure __Island_, of which I expected you to read over the break. You will be tested on your knowledge tomorrow so study up! I end today's lecture early because I would like to take this time to give you back you summaries. I'm only doing this now because, quite frankly, your summaries sucked."

Whatever, Kenny rolled his eyes. Like he needed to know how to write a summary. With his prospects, he was never going to write another one. It was a miracle that he was even still in school.

"McCormick!" Dr. Gunn bellowed, glaring down at him as he held a wrinkled piece of notebook paper in hand. "Are you fantasizing in my class again? Well, for that, you'll have to write me a one page report on just what you're daydreaming about and be as detailed as you possibly can."

"Hustler subscription get canceled again?" Kenny asked around a yawn.

"Show your elders respect," Gunn snapped at him. "And to your question, yes."

Ah, that explained why the old man was so cranky.

"Um, Dr. Gunn?" a ginger girl at the front of the class asked, raising her hand up in the air.

"What?" Gunn snapped at the girl, turning his glare towards her now.

"Why did you give me an F?" the girl demanded, her breathing getting deeper and deeper as the seconds progressed. "I don't understand."

"What's there to understand?" Gunn growled at her as he approached her, his walker scrapping against the tiled floor as he moved. Snatching the girl's paper from her grasp, he read out loud, "This is a story about a girl and a guy vampire falling in love but the guy vampire goes crazy at the end. I suck at summaries, just read. Better than it sounds."

"I worked very hard on that!" the girl protested and Kenny got the feeling that the girl was starting to hyperventilate at this point. Her concern for her low grade was making her immune to Gunn's intimidation.

"How is this a summary for Bram Stoker's _Dracula_?" Gunn demanded. "It reads more like something that bitch Stephanie Meyer would write up!"

"B-b-b-but Dr. Gunn!" the ginger girl exclaimed, the pitch of her voice starting to rise. Kenny winced as he tried to send some kind of telepathic message to her to shut up before she really pissed this guy off. "I can't afford to have an F! What'll it do to my grade? What if I can't go to college because of it? What if it means I get a pimple!"

"Well, you should have thought of that before you wrote a piece of shit summary," Dr. Gunn sneered. "It isn't that hard to summarize a three hundred page story in less than one hundred words. I could do that in my sleep!"

"But summaries are hard!" someone complained, directing Gunn's ire towards them though he was unable to exactly pinpoint who had just spoken.

"Who said that?" he demanded. "It wouldn't happen to be the person who wrote: 'Just read the story becuz my summaries suck. This is my first summary, no flames.'?"

Silence. Really, Kenny knew he couldn't do this assignment but that was worse than what he himself put down.

"Or how about this one?" Gunn continued as he read another summary. "'Read the story but don't review and crush my heart into tiny little pieces and burn them with fire then smashing it with a boulder.' I gave that one a D minus only because it was only slightly more original than the other one."

Someone had been asking for something like this not to happen. Well, they might as well have put a bull's-eye on their face for writing that one. Kenny found that he could not emphasize with that person.

"Oh, and this one is my favorite," Gunn added. "'Someone new moves to town and wait till they shake everything up! Submit OCs.' Now wasn't that a charming one? I gave it an F minus. The grade doesn't exist but I felt I had to put a minus there to emphasize what a piece of—"

The good doctor suddenly found himself being interrupted by the class bell and Kenny couldn't have been more thankful for that. Enough about the English language and summaries, it was time he got out of there before he lost his mind due to the stupidity of some people.

As he passed the ginger girl, he heard a girl say to her, "It'll be all right Rory, it's not the end of the world." A wail was her reply and Kenny snickered at that. If he remembered correctly, that ginger girl was one of those dramatic types. Like really, really, _really_ dramatic. And that didn't even begin to explain just how dramatic she was.

Yeah, she was good for a laugh every now and then. Of course, Kenny would never date her because he had the feeling she was one of those clingy types. He remembered the last person who got clingy about him. Ehhhhh, it wasn't something he liked to think about.

* * *

><p>"No," Mari stated, refusing to look at the other girl who was just to her left.<p>

"Aww! C'mon!" Roxi Thame, wonder girl extraordinaire and moonlighting superheroine, protested.

"No Roxi, I'm not going to do it," Mari continued to hold out as she opened her locker. "I refuse to have anything more to do with this."

"Maaarrrrriiiiii!" Roxi whined, practically pawing at her. No, wait, she was pawing at her.

"I refuse to further degrade myself," Mari retorted.

"But I need all the help I can get!" Roxi pressed. "Being a superhero is hard! Like really hard!"

"What did you expect, that it'd be easy?" Mari snarked, putting away her last class' books and pulling out the one for her next one.

"Mysterion makes it look easy," Roxi pouted.

"You mean Kenny, right?"

"No, I mean Mysterion. What does Kenny McCormick have to do with this?" Roxi said, giving Mari an odd look. Naturally, Mari didn't see it because she was refusing to look at the other brunette who had pink highlights streaking through her soft locks.

"I swear, I am so close to losing it," Mari groaned, looking up at the ceiling with a "why me?" expression.

"Lose it then so you can become a supervillain," Roxi encouraged. "Fighting crime and doing good deeds isn't going to help me get Mysterion any faster. I need to speed it up; I need a supervillain who'll pose a threat. When I defeat him or her, I'll really be a superhero myself and then Mysterion will _have_ to notice me!"

"Don't you already have a supervillain?" Mari deadpanned. "What about that fight? You know, the one where you first showed yourself?"

"Well, yeah, there were two there," Roxi admitted. "But one of them died. I like to call him Raper Faker. The other one is still alive, I think, but I can't find him anywhere!"

Unaware, Bain Cynis passed behind the girl, blatantly ignoring her.

"It's like he vanished into thin air!" Roxi exclaimed. "He's a sneaky bastard and if I could catch him…but I don't even know where to start! That's why I need your help!"

"I am not and will not ever become a supervillain just so you can get that Goddamn Spiderman kiss you want too much," Mari grounded out.

"But you've been with this from the beginning!" Roxi pleaded. "Please Mari. I'm on my fucking knees, begging you! Be my archnemesis!"

"Hey girls, what's going on?" Wendy Testaburger asked as she came up to the two girls.

"Roxi wants me to become a supervillian so that she can get Kenny's attention," Mari answered without batting an eyelash.

"How many times have I told you, I don't want Kenny, I want Mysterion!" Roxi corrected, peeved at the other girl.

"Oh. You're still going on about that," Wendy said, her lack of enthusiasm noticeable. Even Roxi in her self-centeredness detected it.

"Hey, are you all right?" Roxi asked, concerned. "You look down, like really down."

"Are you still moping?" Mari asked, eyes half-lidded. "You were the one to break up with Stan. Why are you still stuck on it?"

"It's…complicated," Wendy answered, not looking the two girls in the eye.

"So what? When's girl business ever simple?" Mari retorted, raising an eyebrow.

"You really don't have to concern yourselves with it," Wendy protested. "There's nothing you could do about it anyway. I'm…just going to go on to class. Good luck with whatever it is you guys are doing."

"But I'm not involved!" Mari objected.

"You know, Wendy seems depressed," Roxi said after a minute.

"You think?" Mari spat sarcastically.

"Whatever it's about, it's eating her up," Roxi continued, oblivious to Mari's cynicism. "I don't think she'd be willing to tell us anything. However…"

"Oh no," Mari groaned having an idea of where this was heading.

"…she might be willing to open up to someone she doesn't know," Roxi discerned, brightening up. "This looks like a job for…"

"Oh no! Don't you dare go there!" Mari warned.

"_Le __Chat __Noir_!" Roxi concluded. "Mari! Meet me at Wendy's house. I'm going to need my wire-fighting crew."

"But I'm the only crewmember," Mari muttered.

This was going to be a long night…

* * *

><p>"You all right Kenny?" Kyle asked, not looking up from the textbook he had on his desk. "You seem out of it today."<p>

"Fuckin' tired as hell," Kenny yawned, not even attempting to be subtle about it.

"Stay up late again?" Kyle asked. "I thought you knew that school started back up today."

"Slipped my mind," Kenny shrugged. "Not like it's the end of—" big yawn here, "—the world. It'll keep spinning whether I stay up late or not."

Kyle rolled his eyes. Always so carefree and laidback. It was a wonder how the guy was passing all his classes with a B average. No really, a B. Not a B minus and nowhere near the C plus range. Kyle marveled at it slightly with no little envy. He never saw Kenny study once when others studied for days on end and still got a C. Not that he got Cs, Kyle was a straight A student here. But he still had to study his ass off so when someone was able to do things like this with such ease, well, you get the idea.

If only Kenny really applied himself…waste of fucking talent there.

"Kyle? Who's the pot calling the kettle black now?" Kenny teased.

"What? Oh, sorry," Kyle said sheepishly, not realizing that he had just blanked out.

"Looks like I'm not the only one who stayed up late," Kenny replied cheekily. "What were you doing? Looking up internet porn again?"

"That was that one time!" Kyle protested before bowing his head and darting his eyes around to see if anyone had heard him. "I'm better now," he hissed back.

"Right. Let me get a look at your computer and see where you hide it all," Kenny said.

"I wasn't looking up porn, Kenny!" Kyle snapped. "My family and I just got back from the airport and we were all jetlagged."

"Airport? You went somewhere?" Kenny perked up, something interesting catching his attention.

"Israel," Kyle sighed, wondering how many people he was going to have to repeat this to. "My family and I went to Israel for the break. Mom wanted to go after all that shit that happened last year and last week was the soonest we could go."

"Was it fun?" Kenny asked. "Did you have a good time?"

Well, that was something new. Usually, the people who had asked and he had answered just left it after he said Israel. Kenny really looked like he wanted to know.

"It was," Kyle answered him. "For once, nothing weird happened. No aliens, no terrorist attacks, no Cartman. Honestly, it was one of the best vacations I ever had. Well…except for…nevermind. It's not important."

"What?" Kenny asked. Damn; he should have never said except. "Something happened, didn't it? What aren't you telling me Kyle?"

"It was halfway through," Kyle decided to answer, not really having the energy to try and verbally spar with the blond. Plus, Kenny really looked concerned. It was nice since someone was interested in what he had to say unlike a certain best friend. Eh, but he couldn't blame them. Who was really interesting in the Holy Land?

"What was it Kyle?"

"Damien showed up."

"What? But how? I thought Lottery Ticket was still keeping an eye on him," Kenny exclaimed, sitting up in his seat.

Kyle eyed the blond, curious as to what was up with that reaction. Nevertheless, he thought it wouldn't hurt to tell what had happened. "Not really sure about that. He showed up one day, I think in the middle of the week. The thing is, he was good. I mean he behaved himself. No use of his powers or anything. I did find out that from him that the holiness of the Holy Land was canceling out his unholiness and making him sick so that would explain why he hasn't shown up today. Saturday he was looking like shit so I told him to go back to South Park."

"And he obeyed?" Kenny asked skeptically.

"Well, yeah," Kyle confirmed.

"So what did he do?" Kenny asked. "I asked earlier if something had happened and you said that Damien showed up. It must have been stressful to have to have the Antichrist of all people tagging along with you in Jerusalem. Did he do something to embarrass you? Talk to me Kyle."

"That's just it," Kyle sighed. "He did nothing other than play the model American tourist."

"That doesn't sound too bad," Kenny said. "But really, what did he do?"

"Kenny, what's the stereotype of an American tourist?"

"Hmm…ugly Hawaiian shirts, unnecessarily loud, and an oversized camera? Wait. Oh…"

"Pissed a bunch of Palestinians off but there was nothing that I could do to say that he was being bad," Kyle said, slumping slightly. "That's why I said he was behaving. His sense of fashion was horrible but he behaved. Behaved like an American tourist but he didn't do anything bad."

"Kyle, it sounds like you're trying not to find any fault with him," Kenny said warningly. "You know what I think you should do?"

"Let me guess, get laid?" Kyle retorted wryly.

"Well, yeah, that, but find yourself somebody," Kenny urged him. "I mean, check out the back. There's a few girls there and they've been checking you out for a while."

"What are you…?" Kyle trailed off as he turned his head towards the back of the classroom, catching the eyes of the girls Kenny had mentioned who looked away from him quickly. One of the girls, a girl with dark-haired girl with ringlets in her hair was blushing slightly. A glance up and Kyle saw the girl's brown eyes widen slightly and dart away just as quickly.

Turning back to Kenny, Kyle asked him, "How'd you know they were looking at me?"

"My Kenny-senses were telling me someone wants to get it on with you," Kenny smiled at him perversely. "The one with the black hair's not too bad. A size B point nineteen or a size C point one zero one. Can't really tell at this distance."

"Well, what about that girl to the left?" Kyle asked, rolling his eyes at the blond.

"You mean the butch girl? I'd say she's at least size C point twenty, maybe size D point one zero eight," Kenny said as he took a real good look at the girl's breasts.

"I will never figure out the criteria for your boob scale," Kyle shook his head.

"Kyle, it's a scientifically approved and widely used scale," Kenny said seriously. "But look at the one that likes you. The one with the average rack. She's smiling at you."

The two of them looked at the dark-haired girl who was letting a small smile grace her face, her pearly white teeth peek out from behind thin lips. Light from the light fixtures reflected off those pearly whites like a death ray and both boys had to look away as they had been nearly blinded by the brilliance. Literally.

"Crap! I think my retinas are burning!" Kyle exclaimed, blinking his eyelids quickly as dark spots flashed across his vision.

"Kyle! I can't see you! Why is everything so dark?" Kenny cried out as he held his hands over his eyes.

"Stay calm Kenny, don't do anything rash!" Kyle cautioned as he shut his eyes tightly.

"Are my eyes bleeding?" Kenny asked as he removed his hands, forcing his eyes to open to reveal them to be bloodshot. "Give me the truth; I can only see blurry things."

Starting to regain his vision, Kyle peered at the blond with narrowed eyes. "They look like they're going implode but I think the worst is behind us."

"Note to self, never let that girl grin," Kenny moaned as he crossed his arms on his desk and buried his face into them. "I haven't had this kind of eye trouble since I started getting hair on my palms!"

* * *

><p>"What do you think's wrong?" Violet asked as she looked over to Ella. "Why are they rubbing their eyes?"<p>

"I don't know," Ella shrugged.

"But you know so much about boys!" Violet protested. "Do you think Kyle doesn't like me?"

"What's not to like about you?" Ella countered. "He's probably just shy and overreacting. Not many girls pay attention to him."

"Do you think it has something to do with the way Gwendolyn asked if I'm sure about him?" Violet asked her.

"Who knows about that girl," Ella rolled her eyes. "But now that you mention it, she did act a little strange."

"Do you think it would help if I talked with him?" Violet asked, dismissing the stuff about their glorious leader.

"It'd be better than doing nothing," Ella answered. "Now, do you know what kind of girl Clyde would like?"

* * *

><p>"This day sucks!" Cartman declared as he took his seat at the lunch table, the bench he sat on creaking ominously under his weight. "Pissed off teachers, everybody's not respecting mah authoritah, and worst of all, I had to ride the late bus! And it's only lunch right now!"<p>

"Dude, stop complaining," Stan told him dully. "You're only going to make things worse if you complain."

"I do what I want!" Cartman shot back. "Gawd. I want to kick the shit out of some underclassman. That'll make me feel better."

"Why don't you grow some balls and stop being a little bitch?" Craig suggested, not even looking at the husky teen.

"Why don't you shut the fuck up Craig. Nobody wants to hear it!" Cartman bellowed back. "Christ, I swear I'm surrounded by Debby Downers here! At least there aren't any Jews in this lunch."

Noticing that nobody was paying attention to him anymore, Cartman glowered at the other boys. Bunch of assholes they were. Here he was having a legitimate bad day and they were telling him to get over it! Some friends they were.

"Aw gee, Eric, it must have been pretty bad to have to ride the late bus," Butters said, coming to lick his wounds. If there was anything this pussy-ass loser was good for, it was inflating the ego.

Around the table, the other guys shuddered at the words "late bus." South Park Independent School District's last ditch effort to try and get kids to school on time was a very effective strategy. Nobody wanted to be on that poorly maintained bus with the world's most disgruntled bus driver who was high on a power trip.

All that could be said was that nobody was late to school anymore and those that were had a reasonable excuse.

"Butters, other people had to ride that bus too," Stan pointed out, "and none of them are whining about it. Traumatized maybe but they aren't complaining. If Cartman hates it so much, he should have gotten up earlier."

"Ay! It wasn't mah fault mah mom didn't wake me up on time!" Cartman snapped.

"Any responsible kid wakes themselves up by themselves," Craig commented.

"How many times do I have to tell you, shut the fuck up Craig!" Cartman shouted back.

A middle finger was the reply.

"Ay! Don't flip me off you son of a bitch!"

"Hey Kenny!" Butters greeted as he looked cheerfully at the orange-clad blond whose eyes looked like they were under the influence.

Hmph. Poor boy was stealing his attention again.

"Whoa, Kenny, what'cha do last night? Drink all the booze in town?" Stan exclaimed as he looked at the blond with concern.

"No, a girl with very white teeth smiled at me and Kyle and almost blinded us," Kenny answered as he took his seat beside the school's quarterback. "I think Kyle's still stumbling around and might need glasses. I know I need some laser surgery to correct the damage."

"You're lying dude," Stan accused.

"You're talking about Violet Robins, aren't you?" Craig spoke up.

"Is that her name?" Kenny asked, interested.

"Yeah, you have to be careful. She smiled at Tweek a month ago and singed half the hair off his head," Craig explained blandly. "He's so paranoid now and says she's really a robot with a built-in death ray."

"If I didn't know any better, I'd say he was right," Kenny said. "Well, at least the lunch lady took pity on me. I got an extra brownie 'cause she felt sorry for me."

"Extra brownie? Give it to me Kenny!" Cartman demanded, interjecting himself back into the conversation.

"Fuck off fatass," Kenny said back. "I need the sugar. I am a growing boy."

"You're eighteen," Craig pointed out.

"And I'm a starving kid over here. Give it ta me!" Cartman argued.

"Starving. Right," Kenny said as he eyed him up and down. Once again, Cartman had the suspicion that Kenny wasn't entire straight but then how could he resist this sexy body of his? "You're so huge, it's no wonder girls keep a one-mile radius from you. Your gravitational pull would force them to orbit you."

"Nice!" Stan crowed as he high-fived the blond.

"Where'd you learn such big words, McCormick?" Craig asked. "I wasn't aware you knew them."

"Kyle's a good influence, Tucker," Kenny answered, a challenging grin on his face. "He's so good that that Violet girl's interested in him."

"Wait, a girl is interested in Kyle?" Stan sat up straight, suddenly alert. "Since when?"

"Since third period," Kenny smirked. "Our local Hebrew is growing up."

Oh hell no. Kenny did not just go there. Not only did that poor piece of shit just say that girls fled the very sight of him but that one of them was attracted to that Goddamn Jewrat! Cartman seethed at that very thought.

"But what about…you know," Stan said in hushed tones. "I don't think he'll be happy to hear about this."

"Stan, dude, this is what we've been waiting for since our balls dropped," Kenny told him. "Not only is a girl interested in Kyle, this is our chance to get him away from Damien. Permanently."

"Do you really think the Antichrist is going to relinquish his claim on Kyle?" Craig asked dully. "Once he finds out what you're doing, he's going to go after you with everything he's got then that poor girl's going to suffer for no other reason than liking the wrong guy."

"Ah ha, but that's where you're wrong, Craig," Kenny said. "If Kyle decides to pick the girl, there's nothing Damien can do about it."

"And you know this how?" Craig asked with narrowed eyes.

"I know a lot of things," Kenny chided.

"He does!" Butters piped up. "Do you know he knows all the boob sizes of every girl in school?"

"I don't like to brag…" Kenny said with faux modesty, buffering his fingernails against his parka.

"So what's the plan Kenny?" Stan interrupted. "How're we going to do this?"

"Well—" Kenny began.

"It's not going to be an _American __Pie_ knock off, is it?" Craig cut in. "If it is, it won't work. I saw the ending of that movie."

"It's not," Kenny defended. "I'm still working it out anyway. It's a work in progress. But, if all goes well, then Kyle's gonna pop his first cherry and then come graduation, we're all not gonna be single losers like fastass."

Okay, that was the last straw. He was not going to be a single loser at graduation!

"Well, pardon me!" he sneered. "While you guys act like girls over there, I'm going to walk up to mah bitch and have her bitchslap you assholes."

"You have a bitch?" Stan deadpanned. "This I gotta see."

"Who is your bitch?" Butters asked. "Have we met?"

"Yeah, Cartman. Who is your bitch?" Kenny asked, giving him a knowing look.

"Uh, well, she's," he looked around frantically, searching for any friendly face he could find. It was at that time that his eyes landed on the lunch line just in time to see Brianna Vargas leave it with her purchased lunch. The memory of the bus ride this morning flickered through his head and he made a snap decision.

"Right there!" he stated smugly, pointing with a beefy finger. "That thar is mah bitch!"

The other assholes looked to where he was pointing and stared at the girl for a minute. "Hey, wasn't she a friend of Rod's?" Stan asked.

"Now that you mentioned it, I think that's where I recognized her," Kenny said. "Isn't she a bookworm?"

Um, what were they talking about? And why did they mention that asshole Rod? Just thinking about the dead asshole reminded him that the police were still trying to press charges against him. Just because he got a little claw happy on his corpse didn't mean he was the one to kill him!

Whatever, now that he had come up with his excuse, he was going to have to follow through and make that girl, Brianna, his bitch. That way, he could show her off and rub it in Kyle's face that he had gotten a girl before him.

* * *

><p>If there was one aspect of the law that Bain did respect, it was the traffic laws. He was the model of the perfect, law-abiding driver as he drove home that evening, the sun starting to hide itself behind the Rockies.<p>

He hadn't gone straight home after school as he was wont to do but that was a new development in his life. It was something he had to thank Charlotte for though he would never admit it. And speaking of Charlotte, she had forced him to clean her locker because of the "mess" his gift had made.

Since Charlotte had a lot more skill when it came to physical combat, he had acquiesced to her demand. And no, he was not wrapped around her finger. He just knew better.

He would never be whipped, especially not to a woman.

Now that she was back from wherever she had gone to (Charlotte for some reason refused to talk about it), Bain felt himself becoming calm. Strange, did he have an addiction towards her? Was that how this relationship thing worked? He'd figure it out later when he still wasn't buzzing from the endorphin high Charlotte had left him with.

Currently, he was driving around aimlessly, not in the least bit concerned with the gas tank. With high gas prices, he should have been more concerned but Charlotte always seemed to know how to take the edge off.

And why was he thinking about her so much? A female should not command this much of his attention unless he was plotting out a way to get away with her murder. Besides, he was driving and needed to keep his attention on the road. At least on the road, the only assholes you had to worry about were other drivers and if a pedestrian pissed you off, all you had to do was press down on the accelerator.

Teach those assholes to walk in front of his car without looking both ways.

Ultimately, he knew he had to return to his house where he would hole up in his room and wait for dawn tomorrow before venturing out. He was a bit of a recluse, so what? It's not like he had a bunch of people tying up the phoneline, wanting to talk about the most inane topics you could imagine. That was time better spent researching how to destroy forensic evidence or checking up on various cases that he may or may not have had a hand in.

Pulling up towards his house, he frowned as he noticed that the driveway was not as empty as it usually was. There was a red Honda taking up most of the parking space and out on the street, near the mailbox, sat another car that he did not recognize.

Who the hell was visiting, his mother's agents? Wouldn't be surprising as everybody wanted to be in a five foot radius of her.

Still, that accursed Honda was taking up too much room. He would have to park in the street and that was not something he wanted to do. Still, there was something about the way that Honda was parked that sparked something in his head.

Shaking his head to clear it, he pulled up to the curb and turned the ignition off. Getting out, he retrieved the tarp that he covered the vehicle with though he found his eyes always returning to that damn Honda. Who the hell's was it?

Locking up and covering up the car, he trekked over to the front door and as he raised a hand to grab the front doorknob, he paused as he heard laughter from within. Who was laughing in there? He hadn't heard laughter in this place in years. His gut was telling him something was up and that opening the door would infect him with whatever was going on in there.

Why the hell was he hesitating? This was his house, his domain! He had the home field which meant the advantage was his!

Pep talk completed, he gripped the doorknob and pushed the door open.

Four pairs of eyes greeted him, only three of which he recognized immediately. There were his father's mousy brown that were lit up with mirth, something he hadn't ever seen before, his mother's dazzling green eyes that were described as jewels by nearly every man she met, and then there were heterochromatic green and gray eyes of…

What the hell was that bitch doing here?

"Sweetie! Guess who's back!" his mother greeted him. "You're sister's here!"

That self-righteous smirk, the heterochromatic eyes that smugly dared him to try anything, and the well-proportioned body than every girl at school would kill for and whose body language screamed nothing but "pay attention to me!" Of all the females he had ever been forced to know, Sierra Cynis was the one he regretted most.

He glowered at her, warning her not to mess with him though it flew completely over her head. She was not a person who took warnings seriously. He did note that she wasn't dressed as…slutish as she usually did. She was more conservative though what she was wearing was still form-fitting.

She was still screaming for attention even though she wasn't saying a damn word.

"Bain, honey, guess who came back with her," his mother continued, heedless of the tension between her spawn. "She brought a man back with her! She's finally becoming an honest woman! And guess what, he's a police officer.

Bain immediately snapped his eyes over to the fourth person in the room and he nearly had a heart attack when he spotted that dark blue uniform.

* * *

><p>A couple hours later, Bain found himself in the dining room, his mood completely soured as he sat in stone cold silence.<p>

At the head, his father in all his massive yet meek size presided while his mother sat conspicuously close to him, so close that most would consider it inappropriate. Meanwhile, Sierra sat to their father's left, the man she had brought home in the seat next to her.

That left Bain sitting as far away from them as he possibly could. He wasn't opposite his father but since his mother was sitting so close to the patriarch, he had a lot of space on his side of the table.

He wouldn't admit it but he was sulking. His daily routine had been interrupted and he hated that. Really, _really_ hated that. He was a man that liked things to go a certain way and interruptions or intrusions were heavily frowned upon.

The man, the _cop_, that sat across from him had a warm smile, clear brown eyes paying absolute attention to the other members of the family with flawless respect. Every word he had uttered had been respectful with the exception of those utter towards Sierra. No, those were full of adoration and lovey-dovey. It made him sick to see a fellow man lower himself like that.

Once in a while, there would be laughter as the young man would make a quip that was so perfectly time…ugh. And thus he remained the dark cloud in their periphery, immune to the charm that was flying about or how the place seemed a bit brighter for no reason.

Then the household intruder turned those eyes to him, that warm smile intensifying slightly as it split that boyish face. Bain eyed it suspiciously as he tuned back into the world. He had ignored most of the chitchat thus far but now it looked like something was about to be directed towards him.

"So you're the kid Sierra's been talking about. It's really great to meet you," the young man directed to him. "She talks nonstop about you and I'm glad to finally see you in the flesh."

Yes, direct all the kindness and charm you had in your body, he was immune to it all as he stared blandly back at him, not saying a single word. He was not going to be chummy with this person just because he was dating his cunt of a sister. Anyone who dated her had poor taste.

"Oh, Bain's not much of a talker," his mother spoke up when it became obvious, even to her, that he wasn't going to be saying anything. "He's always been shy with people he doesn't know. I bet he talks up a storm at school."

"That's no problem," the young man said. "I was shy when I was younger too. You're probably just upset that I'm here messing up how everything usually goes. I had no intention of doing that but I understand where you're coming from. I was the same way, hated whenever someone I didn't know showed up."

Who was he that he thought he knew what upset or didn't upset him?

"So, Marcus," his father said, taking the young man's attention from him. So his name was Marcus? What was his last name? "I saw that you have a lot of stuff in your car. Is there any particular reason?"

"Oh, I just got out of the academy, the police academy," Marcus answered eagerly. "I was already dating Sierra here and when I told her that I was looking for a place to start out, she told me this town might be a good place. It's small, doesn't have all the crap you'd find in the big cities, and I think it would be good to stretch my wings here before going to somewhere bigger."

"I see," his father said though Bain detected some uneasiness there. "Sierra might have…understated just how little goes on here."

"Every place is different," Marcus shrugged. "Plus, I've always wanted to live in a town. There's a closeness here you won't find in a city. That's where I grew up and there you barely know the neighbors!"

"So are you looking at any openings with the Park County department?" his father asked.

"No, I was looking more at SPPD," Marcus said helpfully.

Even his mother seemed a bit slack jawed at that. Marcus, however, did notice this as that smile of his was still on his face. Was he just one of those naturally happy people or something because Bain found those people to be utterly unbearable.

"I think it would be better for you to apply with PCPD instead," his father said.

"Yes, that would be much better," his mother was quick to agree.

"No, no, I would prefer SPPD," Marcus said. "Do you know where I need to go in order to apply there?"

"City Hall," his father said unsurely, "but are you really sure about this?"

"Absolutely," Marcus said proudly. "What could one more officer on the force be bad for?"

This guy had to be an idiot. A dumb, fucking idiot. Bain turned his eyes towards Sierra who's eyes were in turn trained on Marcus. Just what had that bitch been filling this guy's head with? If there was anything else Bain felt for him, it was pity. Pity because he was so enamored with Sierra of all people.

Well, he wasn't about to correct an idiot's mistake. Let him dig himself deeper. The world could use less of them.

"Where will you be staying while you get yourself settled?" his father asked, deciding to change the topic.

"Well, I was thinking of finding a motel," Marcus admitted as he shrugged his broad shoulder uncomfortably. "I don't think the parents of my girlfriend would be eager to have me under the same roof and all," he added with slightly stressed brown eyes.

"Nonsense," his mother cut in. "You have our baby girl's attention and that says something. You can stay here! The basement has heating in it so you won't get cold. It's perfect!"

His father was silent though his eyes were trained solely on his mother. Looks like the woman of the house had the pants on now.

"This way, we can get to know you better and you can take your time finding a place to stay," his mother concluded. "We wouldn't want to deprive our daughter of her boyfriend for too long," she teased.

"Mom!" Sierra whined. "You're embarrassing me!"

"Well, if I wouldn't be intruding…" Marcus said as he combined his fingers through bushy brown hair. Looked more like bramble from where Bain was sitting but he doubted the guy could receive any more of his contempt than he already had.

"Pish posh, we'd welcome you here," his mother said, giving the smile that had enslaved countless men and turned countless women gay. "James can help you move some of your luggage in tonight and we can do the rest tomorrow. Don't worry Marcus, you're practically family!"

So were the twenty some-odd others who Sierra had brought home.

"Besides, I bet no one would dare to try and burglarize our home if they knew a police officer lived here," his mother finished up.

"I'm not an officer yet, I just graduated!" Marcus protested though it was halfhearted. The grin on his face was speaking volumes and Bain couldn't deny it was a bit infectious.

Not that he would be smiling…any time…soon…

It slowly began to dawn on him and he cursed himself for not realizing it sooner.

They were going to have a cop. Living here. With them. And he had broken the law the young man was supposed to uphold. Many times. Because he enjoyed killing people. A lot.

He, Bain Cynis, unidentified serial killer would be sharing his living space with a cop.

…

Fuck.

* * *

><p>Dr. Gunn: <strong>Zephyr Morpheus Lee<strong>

Aurora "Rory" Neilson (the dramatic ginger girl): **the sweetest sugar**

Mari Evans: **MrMissMrs Random**

Roxi Thame: **Roxi2Star**


	4. Black Market

Author's Note: I need to give a thank you to ShadowMajin for helping me find ApologetiX's song, _Love the Jews_. What's it for, you'll just have to find out. I got to say, writing these chapters is somewhat easy for me. Once I sit down and start, it's like I can't stop and when I do, it's only for a break. Took me only three days to write this but most of it was done on Sunday. Yeah, that's right. If anybody can guess what the main plot is now, tell me your guesses, and if you don't that's just fine because I've barely given you guys any of it. Still, it encourages me to know what you guys are thinking. Enjoy.

Disclaimer: I do not own South Park, Savage Garden's _Crash and Burn_, Disney's _Part of your World_, and ApologetiX's _Love the Jews_.

Warning: language

Black Market

It wasn't long after dinner that Bain sequestered himself in his room, trying to do anything to avoid the new tenant. He was not going to go out of his way to make this guy feel at home, especially since they were natural enemies.

A criminal and a cop. Well, if this cop ever caught on to him, it would mean that he would be a very big catch. It made him think of what little nicknames the press would give him if that should happen.

What the hell was he thinking? He was essentially on lockdown, especially with Marcus' keen eyes. The man had admitted that he wanted to get into homicide in time so he was studying shows like _CSI_ to figure out what made the difference between regular cops and homicide detectives.

He'd get better information watching _Dexter_. Not that Bain would be telling him that anytime soon.

So what was he going to do? His sister was off on study days though she would be going back soon to take her finals. He had a clear idea that studying was the last thing she was going to do and when it came to test time, she'd half-ass it.

It worked for her in high school but Bain knew that it wasn't working for her in college. The best she ever gotten was a B and that was doing some last minute studying. Cunt hadn't made the transition into college life yet, still thinking she was the center of the world. Oh, the times his parents had dragged him to the University of Colorado's school over in Colorado Springs had taught him that things were different. He hadn't seen any cliques walking around and there were so many people there. If there was any socializing, it was not on the campus.

And speaking of college, he was still waiting for some replies. The University of Colorado up in Denver was his last choice and he wasn't going to take another step at the Colorado Springs division. Stanford was probably bogged down with all the applications it got.

There was a knock on his door, startling him. There were only two people in this house who bothered knocking and one of them wasn't Sierra. What did his parents want now?

The door opened and Bain found that he wished he had kept Winslow hidden instead of laying out on his desk in plain view.

"Wow, not a bad place you got here," Marcus commented as he stepped into his room. "A little bare, isn't it?"

"What do you want?" Bain asked though it was in a demanding tone. He was not one to engage in small talk.

"I just wanted to get to know my girlfriend's brother better," Marcus said, holding his hands up in surrender. "Is this a bad time?"

"The fact that you find her physically attractive is not uncommon," Bain said, his eyes boring into this intruder. "I've seen people literally throw themselves at her, panting like rutting dogs. No, if it's her personality you're attracted to, I have to admit you have very poor tastes."

"I'm sensing a little hostility here," Marcus said, hands firmly in his pockets.

"That's the understatement of the century," Bain stated.

"Do you know something I don't?" Marcus asked, somehow not being slighted by Bain's scorn. "She doesn't have any weird, psycho ex-boyfriends that I'm not aware about?"

Bain paused, thinking about the handful of guys that Sierra had literally driven insane with jealousy and rage. They now occupied rooms in various mental hospitals and if he recalled correctly, one was locked in a padded room and slobbering in a straitjacket.

"No," he answered simply.

"I was worried there for a moment," Marcus said, that smile of his easily spreading his lips. "Girls like her attract a lot of people, some of whom are missing a few screws in their heads."

"I hope you're counting yourself in that," Bain remarked as he turned away from Marcus. Up on his laptop screen was his iTunes library that he skimming through, searching for something that could tame his snarling beast within. That's what he had been doing before Marcus had decided to intrude on his solitude.

The way this guy was rolling with the punches, never losing his cool… Bain could respect someone like that, he found. Would he have grown up to have been like that had he not become the remorseless sociopath that he was today? An interesting question but one that was a waste of time asking—

"Hey, you like Savage Garden too?" Marcus asked, looking over his shoulder at his library.

Bain blinked and took in just where he had scrolled down to. Oh, Goddamn it.

"It's a bitch they had to break up," Marcus sighed. "I really liked them. Still do. Do your speakers work?"

Before Bain could do anything, Marcus had extended his arms around either side of him and the next thing he knew, the music of Savage Garden was playing. Bain reached out to try and cut the sound off but Marcus caught him and pulled him back, all the while singing lowly with Darren Hayes.

"_When __you __feel __all __alone, __and __the __world __has __turned __its __back __on __you, __give __me __a __moment __please, __to __tame __your __wild, __wild __heart_," Marcus sang, making Bain grit his teeth together. It wasn't that bad, to be honest. He wasn't singing out loud like with karaoke, just in a soft voice that made it hard to tell if you were indeed talented or "awful" as Simon Cowell put it.

Damn it, why was this guy so dead set on making him like him? It was working, Goddamn it!

He had to cut him off as Marcus was singing the phrase, "_I __know __you __feel __like __the __walls __are __closing __in __on __you_," by forcibly shoving his away. However, he left Savage Garden on in the background, not bothering to shut iTunes down.

"What the hell?" he growled, glaring at the young man who was surprisingly unaffected by it. What…?

"Are you embarrassed? Sorry but I really like these guys…didn't mean to get into your personal space," Marcus apologized, scratching the back of his head.

Bain stared back passively, not saying anything though not glaring either. The guy looked like a kicked puppy and while Bain had kicked puppies before and not felt guilty about it, somehow Marcus was succeeding where the mutts had failed before.

What was it about this guy? Was he so pathetic or something that even someone like him, Bain, had to stop and try to make him, Marcus, happy? He was supposed to be a cop! Big, strong, emotionless, and mace happy! Acting like a pussy was the number one no-no here! Wait, was this how Marcus graduated from the police academy? He made his instructors feel so sorry for him that they gave him a free pass?

Was the powers of humility that powerful?

Glancing back at his computer, he said, "Care to explain why you picked…_Crash__and__Burn_?"

"You seemed on edge," Marcus shrugged. "It can't be easy to find some guy is going to be a part of your life without your permission. That seemed like the right one at the time."

"You barely know me and already you're afraid I'm about to have a breakdown?" Bain questioned, raising an eyebrow skeptically.

"Probably not the most appropriate song," Marcus said.

_You __think?_ went unspoken but Bain wasn't in the mood to ball bash the guy. Probably those powers of humility or something. A look into those friendly brown eyes had words bubbling up in his chest and the normally quiet sociopath found himself talking unbidden.

"You know Darren Hayes has a solo career?"

Where had that come from? What had prompted him to say that in the first place? What the hell was going on?"

"I didn't know that," Marcus said, brightening as he thought he was making progress with him. "You have any of his albums?"

"Naturally." What the…? Now he was engaging willingly in conversation?

It looked like Marcus wouldn't be going anywhere anytime soon and as the time flew by, Bain found that he was starting to question just what was going on behind those friendly smiles and that inviting voice.

* * *

><p>It was dark out this night, the moon barely a quarter wide in its cycle and thus not casting much light out. In some ways, it reflected the mood Wendy found herself in as she stared out through her window and into the town beyond.<p>

She was starting to think that she was clinically depressed. Ever since the breakup, the very breakup that she had intentionally made painful, there had always been this sadness that had taken root somewhere inside her. It colored everything she did, never going away.

She truly regretted breaking up with Stan the way she did but under the circumstances, she felt she had no other choice. Blackmailed by Rod, forced to hurt Stan in a way that a punch could never harm, Wendy felt like a tool in someone else's hand. It only got worse after she had gone through with it and found out that Rod was no longing among the living. He had been no threat to her any longer but it had been too late and she couldn't take back those hurtful words.

Would Stan have forgiven her for implying that he sucked at sex? For a guy, that was probably something big. Like kicking them in the balls. She had only said what had come to mind and well, none of it had been flattering. Then again, you weren't supposed to flatter the person you were breaking up with.

Regardless, the facts remained and the guilt she still felt embraced her like a cloak. After what she had…there was no going back to the way things used to be.

The relationship was over, beyond repair. Stan had found another by now, someone that Wendy had been jealous of. But she couldn't blame Kyra. That girl had no control over Stan vomiting on her. Neither did Stan, but he only tended to do that when he was with someone he really, really liked.

Wendy supposed that now all she cared was that Stan was at least a little bit happy. He was a sweet guy though he could be overbearing. When he gave his heart to someone, he didn't hold back and sometimes it felt like he was suffocating you.

How she would give anything…no, no it was over. It was over, Wendy Testaburger, and you said it before. There was no going back.

Something bumped into her window, shaking her out of her thoughts as she realized her view was being obstructed by something. Then something scraped against the glass, causing the raven-haired girl to push away from her window, stumbling backwards until she fell right on her ass.

By now the window was shaking and Wendy was finding herself freaked out. Something was trying to come in and Wendy feared that it may try to harm her, whatever it was. She searched for anything that she possibly use as a weapon, grabbing the first thing that looked good to her.

It turned out to be a pencil but Wendy was too frightened to think rationally.

Wait, she could scream, couldn't she?

Then she remembered that she was the only one home. Her parents were out so there would be no one inside to help her. Just freaking great. Well at least the window was locked…

"Why won't this freakin' thing open?" she heard a voice demand. The glass was muffling the sound but Wendy did catch a feminine tint to it. Was…was a girl trying to break into her room?

"Who's out there?" Wendy demanded as she tightened her grip on her pencil. She was starting to wish she had sharpened the thing earlier… "I'm armed!"

Silence. The sounds of someone trying to break in had stopped but Wendy knew that whoever it was hadn't left. They were still blocking the window but it was still so dark out and the light from her room was causing a glare on the glass.

Then she heard, "I mean you no harm."

What?

"Who are you?" Wendy demanded.

"A friend."

"Which one?"

"Open the window, Wendy. It would be easier to talk face to face."

"Why would I want to talk with you? I have no idea who you are!" Wendy shouted.

Again, nothing was said. Wendy was hoping they would leave because she so didn't want to get in some hostage situation.

"I can sense that you are sad, Wendy," the person said. "I want to help you. What is making you sad Wendy?"

"Help? Why?" Wendy asked suspiciously. "I have no reason to trust you. Besides, for all I know, you could be planning on raping me or doing some other sick shit."

"I swear to you Wendy, I will not rape you. _Le __Chat __Noir_ swears on her honor as a superhero."

Le…Chat…Noir? Who? And—ha! She knew it was a girl! Score one for Wendy! That aside, she had never heard of this person.

"Never heard of you," she said. "By the way, that's not even English!"

There was some mumbling but Wendy couldn't make out what was being said. Then, in a strained voice, Le Chat Noir said, "I know I'm asking a lot out of you. If I were you and somebody came up to my window wanting to talk, I wouldn't invite them in either. But Wendy, I am asking you to trust me. Will you trust me?"

This would be the part where Wendy would lower her pencil and think hard on Le Chat Noir's request. She would probably wonder if she had anything to lose, other than her virtue, and make a bold decision. She would let this person in, see if they were worthy of her investing her trust into them.

"I'm not letting you in," Wendy stated, preferring to err on the side of logic, thank you very much.

"Aw! Come on!" Le Chat Noir whined un-superheroically.

"What, you think I'm stupid?" Wendy exclaimed. "I'm not going to fit into stereotype, asshole!"

"But I only have good intentions…" Le Chat Noir mumbled though it was audible even to Wendy.

"That's what they all say," Wendy rolled her eyes. "Shame me once, shame on you. Shame me nine times, shame on me."

"Huh? You mean this has happened before?" Le Chat Noir asked, stumped.

"No!" Wendy said hastily.

"But it sounds like a legitimate—oh shit!"

Suddenly, the window wasn't as dark and Wendy could seem the dim light of the streetlight across the street. She rushed over to her window and opened it, peering out to see what had happened. She didn't see anything…except for a shadow flashing out of existence. Damn, this Le Chat Noir got away!

She needed to warn people there was a lesbian prowler on the loose!

Grabbing her cell phone, she tried Bebe first but got picked up to voice mail instead. "Damn it Bebe, are you screwing another kid?" Wendy scowled before she left a quick message to look out for anyone suspicious.

Who to call next? She might as well call Roxi; that girl was a magnet for trouble so it would be in her best interest not to become a victim of female rape. Kenny wasn't going to be around to save her all the time.

"_Hello?__"_ Roxi answered breathlessly as she picked up.

"Roxi! You won't believe what just happened!" Wendy cried.

"_What? __What __happened?__"_ Roxi demanded.

"Someone tried to break into my room!" Wendy told her. "I think it was a girl, probably sexually desperate to the point she would take anyone, even a girl! I was so startled!"

"_Um__…__Wendy__…__don__'__t __you __think __you__'__re __overreacting?__"_ Roxi asked, her voice cracking. _"__Don__'__t __you __think __it __could __be __a __brand __new __vigilante __out __to __clean __up __crime __and __counsel __girls __who __are __feeling __depressed?__"_

"Where'd you come up with that?" Wendy asked before shaking her head. "Never mind, I don't want to know. It's not a vigilante, we already have Kenny for that. No, it's a prowler, a homosexual prowler, whose trying to con her way into girls' bedrooms. We've got to do something!"

"_But __Wendy! __The __last __time __you __said __that, __you __had __Farrah __Fawcett __resurrected __as __Frankenstein__'__s __monster __and __infected __with __super __AIDS!__"_ Roxi said almost hysterically.

"What's your point?" Wendy asked.

"_Couldn__'__t __you__…__tone __it __down __this __time? __The __world __still __hasn__'__t __recovered __from __super __AIDS,__"_ Roxi suggested. _"__Don__'__t __you __know __you __can __get __that __shit __from __sitting __on __an __infected __toilet __seat?__"_

"Hmm…you're right," Wendy agreed reluctantly. "And after Stan's dad got a false positive… That just means it's on to plan B."

"_Plan __B?__"_ Roxi asked, puzzled.

"That's right, plan B," Wendy stated. "We're going to gather up the girls and tomorrow night, we'll form an old fashioned posse complete with torches and pitchforks. We're going to stop this menace before someone innocent gets hurt!"

"_But __I__'__m __innocent!__"_ Roxi cried.

"I know you're innocent," Wendy told her gently. "As outlandish as you can be, you don't have it in you to dress up as a self-proclaimed vigilante and try and break into girls' bedrooms." When Roxi said nothing to that, Wendy continued, "Roxi, this is really important. If we don't defend ourselves from the freaks and monsters out there, who will? Guys? No, we as women must unite against a common enemy!"

"_Yeah__…__.o-okay__…__w-w-whatever __you __say,__"_ Roxi agreed hesitantly.

Wendy thought the response was odd. Then it hit her. "Roxi…you weren't harmed by this girl, were you? Oh my god, you were!"

"_Hold __on __a __minute__—"_ Roxi tried to say but Wendy plowed over her.

"You've been victimized! Don't worry girl, your friends are here to help!" Wendy proclaimed. "We'll get this bitch and send her away for fifteen to twenty! Everything's going to be okay!"

Before Roxi could say anything else, Wendy had hung up, more pressing concerns needing her attention.

* * *

><p>Roxi stared at her phone, a lost expression on her face. It didn't help that she was dressed up in her <em>Le<em>_Chat__Noir_ outfit.

Nearby, dressed warmly, Mari gave Roxi a dead look and said, "I told you this was a bad idea."

"Shut up!" Roxi snapped.

* * *

><p>Most people would be waking up right now, realizing they were running late and scrambling to get to school before they had to take the late bus. Most people were finishing up breakfast if they just so happened to wake up at a decent time. Most people would only just be arriving on school grounds because they had nothing else better to do before the first bell rang.<p>

Well, LESBIANs weren't most people.

They were the Last Especially Scorned Bitches In A Nation group, founded back in the fall semester by Gwendolyn Long, who was later kicked out, for the sole purpose of bringing together every girl who had an unrequited crush and getting them the love of their life.

Brittany Love, the new self-styled leader of the group, thought that things were much better now that their former dictator of a leader was gone but at the same time, she was finding it more challenging than she had thought it would be. LESBIAN had two groups of girls in it, dividing them as they argued over the most pressing of issues.

Who was going to get Kenny McCormick? Brittany had declared that Kenny was hers and hers alone. Hell, the blond stud had even taken her out on a date! A date! But try telling that to that mule Bonnie Snyder. For some reason, Bonnie still thought he was free game and some of the girls thought so to.

However, Brittany was more of a leader than Bonnie was and other than the Kenny dilemma, everything was just peachy.

Now if only Bonnie could learn that Kenny was not on the market…

And just because Kenny had barely spoken to her since their date back in September did not mean that he was still open either. Brittany thought that point needed to be made now before anybody else got confused.

However, today was not a day for her and her fellow LESBIANs to divide themselves over something like Kenny belonging to her. No, she had recently found out something, something that could be much worse that Bonnie having a point. That was why they were having an early morning meeting in the abandoned classroom at the back of the school right next to the band room.

They were going to have to address the problem that was the MUFFDIVERs.

Gwendolyn wasn't someone you could push away and expect never to hear from again. Brittany was finding that out the hard way. That girl had the gall to form another group and intrude on their territory. In fact, they had already begun doing so!

If LESBIAN were to survive, it had to address this before they were taken down and screwed.

"Fellow LESBIANs!" she called to order, banging the abandoned gavel of Judge G. Douché. "It has come to my attention that we have a problem, a big one."

"Are you and Bonnie still fighting over Kenny?" someone asked.

"We're not fighting since that's a nonissue," Brittany said only to be interrupted by Bonnie herself.

"I agree. Kenny's still open for the taking," the blonde with doe eyes said cheerfully.

"No he's not!" Brittany huffed. "I told you I went out on a date with him!"

"And he hasn't called back since," Bonnie mentioned innocently.

"That's because the phone company disconnected them," Brittany sniffed.

"That was over a year ago. They paid their bills and got it back," Bonnie retorted.

"That's only in your delusional mind," Brittany spat.

A few minutes had to be wasted as the other girls had to keep the two combatants from having a catfight. Again. This was not unusual and basically it was treated calmly. Most girls could predict when another one was about to happen and were ready for it.

"Okay, okay, I'm fine. I'm fine, I'm cool, I'm calm," Brittany said as she calmed herself down after fighting against the collective strength of her fellow LESBIANs. Retrieving Judge G. Douché's gavel, which she had thrown during the previously mentioned scuffle, she continued where she left off. "Kenny's still mine."

Another scuffle later, they were back where they were before, albeit disheveled. Another girl, Brittany thought her name was Rory or something like that had taken the reins until she was sure that order had been restored.

"You okay?" the ginger girl asked as she handed the gavel back to Brittany.

"Top notch," Brittany said dryly.

"Just stick to what you wanted to tell us first," the ginger girl said as she smoothed out the wrinkles in her long skirt. In fact, Brittany noticed that she was doing a little bit too much smoothing but shrugged it away.

"Oh God, why aren't they coming out?" the girl began to freak out unexpectedly.

"What? What's not coming out?" Brittany asked, alarmed.

"The wrinkles! The wrinkles aren't coming out!" the ginger girl cried out. "My dress is ruined!"

"It's not ruined, it looks fine to me Rory," Bonnie said, trying to be helpful.

"No it's not! I have to go home and get a new dress!" Rory declared, tears gathering in the corner of her eyes. "And I have to burn this one! It shouldn't see the light of day. It shouldn't—"

_BANG! BANG! BANG!_

"Calm yourself Rory," Brittany ordered, Judge G. Douché's gavel quivering in her grip after being slammed on the abandoned teacher's desk. "We have important things to discuss. I'm sure you guys have heard about the MUFFDIVERs, right?"

Now _that_ was getting some attention. Even Rory, or whatever her name was, Brittany was just going with what Bonnie called her, had escaped her hysteria to listen in on this.

"They're taking our guys, girls," Brittany said, "and that bitch Wendy 2 is in charge of it."

"They're already moving in," Bonnie said as she cross her arms, practically pouting in her seat. "I saw one of their members trying to move in on Kenny. And he was paying attention to her!"

There were lots of gasps and whispers but Brittany added on to what Bonnie had just pointed out. "It's not just Kenny, they have girls looking at others like Kyle, Clyde, and Craig."

"Who's looking at Craig?" Rory unexpectedly spoke up, looking sharply at her with bright blue eyes.

"I don't know her name yet—" Brittany began to say but found herself being interrupted for the second time that morning.

"I'll skin that fucking bitch, whoever the hell she is!" Rory declared, her red-haired bob shaking to and fro with every violent snap of her heart-shaped head.

"Quick! Get the chocolate!" Brittany ordered.

"Does anybody know any terrorists who have access to a rocket? How about Anthony Hopkins? Does he still eat people? Wait, I have a better idea, what ab—uff? Ummmmmm…" Rory was pacified as a large chocolate bar was shoved into her mouth, removing her attention from her anger to the sweet, liquidy taste that all women were addicted to.

Turning away from Rory, Brittany said, "I know you girls are concerned by this unexpected betrayal but all is not lost yet. I have good news!"

"Is it Kenny being open for anyone?" Bonnie asked hopefully.

"Fuck off Bonnie! I was talking about us having a spy in MUFFDIVER!" Brittany announced.

"We do?" all the girls minus Rory asked, staring at her.

"Yep!" Brittany chirped. "It comes at a price but it's an easy one to pay! All she's asking for is dirt on some guy called Bain Cynis. Did I say that right? DJ? Could you stand up?"

At the back of the abandoned classroom at the back of the school right next to the band room, DJ Callahan made her presence known to the LESBIANs.

"Hey, isn't that corpse girl?" Bonnie asked rudely.

"Go fuck a pony," DJ replied dismissively. Then to the whole collective, DJ said, "I hope that our cooperation will be a profitable one, girls."

* * *

><p>"I will never understand your eating habits Charlotte," Bain grumbled as he took the lead in leading the girl to the front entrance of the school. "Chocolate chip pancakes at noon and now ice cream for breakfast. You must have an alien digestive tract."<p>

Taking a big lick of the vanilla flavored desert held in a waffle cone, Charlie chose to make a show of slurping the treat. It was an easy way to bother Bain and not in an innocent way either.

"Indecent whore," Bain muttered as he practically kicked down the front doors.

"Somebody woke up on the wrong side of the bed," Charlie commented. "I haven't seen you this pissed off since we first met."

"Oh dear Charlotte, I am many dimensions of pissed off," Bain snarled, scaring away Butters who had been coming up to him, his mouth open to say something. One look at Bain and Butters was long gone before you could say "loo loo loo."

"Okay, what did I do?" Charlie sighed. "Did I get ice cream on your front seat?"

"You better not have," Bain snapped at her, eyeing her sharply with his green eye that was positively acidic. "And no, for once it's nothing _you_ have done that has pissed me off."

"Then what is it?" Charlie asked, tired of playing the guessing game with him.

"My sister's in town," Bain said simply.

Ah. Well. That explained a lot actually. If there was anyone that Bain hated more than everybody in the school put together, it was his older sister. Charlie wasn't fond of the elder Cynis sibling but she had never had to live with her.

"Did she do anything other than, you know, breathe?" Charlie asked.

"She brought her boyfriend home," Bain stated. "A boyfriend that just so happened to have graduated from the Colorado police academy."

"She's dating a cop?" Charlie blinked, taking a lick of her ice cream.

"And my parents invited him to live in the basement while he looks for employment," Bain seethed. "He couldn't stay in her room because she's oh so 'virtuous.' Pah!"

"Sucks to be you," Charlie shrugged.

"Sucks to be anyone who provokes me and right now Charlotte, you are provoking me."

"So what else is new?" Charlie shrugged, raising her eyebrows up to the ceiling in thought. What did she have to do today? Oh yeah, Gunn was having that quiz of his. Right. Did she have a pencil for that? Hmm…no, no, she remembered; she had given it to Tammy. And Tammy hadn't given it back.

"Wonder if anyone will lend me one," she asked out loud while taking another lick, unaware of what she had just done.

"Lend you what?" Bain asked cuttingly.

"Short a pencil," she said uncaringly. "Mind if I bum one off you?"

"No."

"Some boyfriend you are," she huffed, licking and slurping another portion of her breakfast.

Bain eyed her for a moment. "You have a dollar on you?" he asked.

"Why?" she answered with a question.

"You have a dollar or you don't, which is it?" Bain demanded.

"Yeah, so what?" Charlie said.

"Follow me."

That was it. Just a two word command and Bain was off. Wondering what was going through his twisted mind, she followed, taking advantage of her longer legs to catch up with him.

"What are you planning this time?" she inquired.

"There's only one place in town where you can get what you need at a moment's notice no matter what it is," Bain answered matter-of-factly.

"And what is this place?" she pressed.

"Black Market."

Charlie's eyes nearly bulged out of their sockets. "The Black Market?"

"No, Black Market. No 'the,' dear Charlotte. Now shut up and follow me."

That's when things starting getting a little weird. Bain was leading her down hallways she had never known existed and down a secret set of stairs that she definitely hadn't known about. Then Bain was marching her down a dark, dank hallway where water pipes lined the walls.

Finally, Bain walked up to a door where he banged on it loudly. Before Charlie could demand to know what was going on, a slot on the door opened and a voice ordered, "Password."

Looking over at Bain, she raised an eyebrow. If Bain had been angry before, he was absolutely livid by now but for some reason, she could tell that he was more angry at something else and not the request for a password.

Then she heard the last words she thought Bain would ever utter.

"_I __want __to __be __where __the __people __are._" Bain growled out. "_I __want __to __see, __want __to __see __them __dancing_—"

The slot slammed closed suddenly and Bain cursed. He cursed a lot. Charlie wasn't even sure some of the things he said were anatomically correct but she figured it was best not to attract his attention for the moment.

Getting a hold of himself, Bain muttered to himself, "Which fucking part was it? It's not that one…not that one…oh Goddamn it!"

That didn't sound good.

Bain banged on the door again and once again the slot opened.

"Password."

Through gritted teeth, Bain forced out, "_Bet__'__cha __on __land, __they __understand, __that __they __don__'__t __reprimand __their __daughters. __Bright __young __women, __sick __of __swimmin__'__, __ready __to __stand._"

She thought that he was about to bust a nut at the "bright young women" part but that was just how sexist Bain was. The words bright, young, and woman did _not_ go together in Bain's lexicon.

Instead of the slot closing abruptly, it slid close quietly and then there was a large clanking sound. Then the door opened and Charlotte couldn't believe her eyes. Beyond the door was a veritable treasure trove of school supplies from binders and lined paper, to various writing utensils and art supplies, to a three-course lunch meal pre-packed and only for $5.99! Tax not included. And then someone was blocking the sight with their average height dressed in a dress shirt, necktie, and suspenders.

"Welcome to Black Market," the white skinned, black-haired youth greeted. Charlie raised an eyebrow at the hair that was gelled back. Hell, there was so much gel in it that she thought she could wipe off the excess and use it to wax a surfboard. "Back for more, Mr. Sinus?"

"It's Cynis," Bain growled.

"Whatever," the youth said dismissively. "What do you need this time? More acid? Plastic wrap? Arsenic?"

"Not in front of her," Bain hissed, emphasizing each word.

"Oh. Right. She can't come in," the youth said coolly.

"Excuse me?" Bain said, staring at the other male.

"She's new. I don't know her. She can't come in," the guy said, staring her down calmly while dismissing Bain.

"It's just this one time," Bain stated. "You'll never see her again."

"The rules are rules, Mr. Sinus—"

"Cynis you retarded mutt!"

"Whatever. Just for that, I won't consider letting her have membership."

"You better pray your home security is state of the art, Wolf, because I swear, in your sleep," Bain was snarling at the now-dubbed "Wolf."

"Do you want me to double the price of what you're buying today?" Wolf asked rhetorically though even Charlie could tell it was a thinly-veiled threat.

"Look, I'll just stay out here," Charlie shrugged. "It's not a big deal."

"Not a big deal?" Bain repeated. "Oh no, I've heard that before. It's never a big deal with women but I'm not about to let you blame me if your pencil should break because I got the 'wrong one.'"

"You're fucking paranoid," Charlie retorted.

"I second that," Wolf added in helpfully.

"Your opinion is not wanted," she stated coldly to Wolf, taking another lick from her ice cream. An ice cream that Wolf's eyes were solely trained on.

"You know," Wolf said slowly, "I might be able to…bend the rules just this one time…that is, if you're willing to hand that little bit of heaven over."

"What? This? The ice cream cone?" Charlie shook the ice cream and received a nod of confirmation. Looking over at Bain who was still stewing from Wolf's extremely barbed words, she decided that perhaps the little guy had had enough for today. "Okay."

"Hand it over," Wolf demanded, his hand held out and his mouth practically drooling.

That was when Charlie opened her mouth wide and took a huge chunk of the ice cream into her mouth, leaving only the cone untouched and handed it to the stunned Wolf. Taking a minute to swallow it all, and receive the inevitable cold headache, she smiled cheekily at the business casual Wolf.

"What the hell is this?" Wolf glared at her.

"The ice cream cone," she shrugged. "I never said anything about the ice cream in it."

"Touché," Wolf grumbled.

"Let me in now?" Charlie asked. "We did have a deal."

"Just this one time," Wolf stressed as he stepped out of their way, letting the two of them in.

* * *

><p>Bain could really be a prissy bitch when he wanted to but it was sometimes better to indulge him than resist him. Charlie got two pencils instead of one just so she wouldn't have to come back to this place, this black market of school supplies.<p>

She didn't like this Wolf guy. He was all over the place and always trying to wheedle out just a little bit more cash out of you, the perfect salesman. Well, he'd be perfect if he wasn't so obvious about it.

Did she really need to own a Margaritaville 4000 that could not only make awesome margaritas, brew a killer coffee, solve world hunger, and build a thermo-nuclear weapon all at the cheap cost of $19.99?

Eh, she'd think about it. Maybe it would be a nice graduation present.

As the metal door slammed behind them and Bain once again took the lead, Charlie knew she had a few questions for him to answer.

"So what's the deal with that place?" she asked. "How do you know about it?"

"I don't know, I didn't care to interview the greasy bastard when I found it by accident," Bain grunted. "All I know is that if you want in, you have to beg that asshole, literally, and if he's in a good mood, he'll say yes. Then he gives you a password which is essentially a song and every time you need to go to him, you have to give a segment of the song as your password. That way, no one can copy it unless they know the song or try and use the segment you just used."

"When did you get so talkative?" Charlie asked. Just a moment ago, Bain looked like he was about to go axe murderer on someone, most likely Wolf.

Right then, Bain stepped to a side as Eric Cartman pushed by, forcing Charlie to do the same. Bain then took a hold of his arm and said in a whisper, "Since I saw him heading this way."

Cartman banged on the metal door and when the slot opened, he began speaking rapidly. "Look man, I just need an essay for Garrison. Can you just pick one and hand it to me—"

"Password."

"Don't you dare make me say it in front of an audience!" Cartman warned, shooting a look at both of the spectators.

The slot shut loudly. The door did not open.

"Ey! Don't you be ignoring me like that!" Cartman roared at the door, punching it though he soon regretted it.

The slot opened again. "Password."

"I swear ta God I'm gonna kill ya," Cartman muttered. "_God __loves __the __Jews, __you __know __I __have __proof, __our __Lord __was __one __too, __so __please __love __the __Jews._"

The slot closed and the door opened.

Cartman turned to the two of them and said, "If Kyle ever hears of this, I will cut your hands and ears off and do whatever else I feel like. Do you hear me?"

"Aye aye, _capitano_," Charlie replied, giving him a mock salute while Bain ignored him outright, dragging her behind him.

"Don't you ignore me you short son of a bitch!" Cartman yelled after them.

"Spreading misery wherever you go, right?" Charlie asked rhetorically, not expecting any answer. A good thing too because she didn't receive an answer. In fact, neither of them said anything until they reached the familiar hallways of South Park High, the silence only interrupted as a couple others passed by them, heading for the Black Market.

She was a bit surprised to see that Token was one of those but other than that, Charlie was more concerned about what was going on in Bain's head. Once they were far away from Wolf, she knew his anger would be directed on something else and she remembered quite well that he had shown up to school in a pissy mood.

Did she bring an apple with her today? She had a feeling she might need it.

* * *

><p>Brittany Love: <strong>Red Rose Of Kyle Broflovski<strong>

Wolf Black: **ShadowMajin**


	5. A Storm's a Comin'

Author's Note: The last of the submitted OCs appears in this one. If I have not accepted your OC, I apologize right now. Unfortunately, I can only juggle so many characters and I have a tendency to focus on canon characters. If I didn't choose your OC, it's because I could not come up with anything that I could do with them that would allow me to use them to their full potential. That and I had a lot of OCs from the previous fic, _Fiends_, carry over into this one so there wasn't a lot of space for these new ones. Anyway, I'd also like to point out there there's a song parody I myself came up with. Anyone care to guess what it is before you read the second author's note at the bottom that gives it all away?

Lastly, a belated Merry Christmas to you all and enjoy.

Warning: language, implied sexual themes, major spoilers for _Fiends_

A Storm's a Comin'

It wasn't every day that you found yourself looking over an application to join the South Park Police Department. Nevertheless, that is exactly what Mayor McDaniels found herself doing that between cunnilingus sessions.

Across from her desk sat a young man with an innocent little smile on his face, curious brown eyes darting around as they took in her office. This guy, this Marcus Cole, looked like a nice guy, energetic enough. He looked normal too; there wasn't anything to make her suspect that he was mentally deficient or a hippie.

That begged the question of what he was doing trying to become a part of the SPPD.

Looking back at the application that rested on her desk, she looked over the information that was being provided to her again, trying to see if she couldn't find anything that might suggest this guy had some kind of abnormality. There didn't seem to be a brain leech visible.

"Okay kid, let's get serious," the mayor said, staring the young man down. "Explain to me why someone like you is not applying to the Park County Police Department."

"I wanted to start off in a small town," Marcus Cole answered her earnestly. "Ma'am," he added after a second's worth of pause. "The big city offers a lot of challenges but that's where everyone is heading to. I figure I'd jump the gun and go to a small town where the competition is more lax."

"Not bad thinking but have you really considered what you're trying to do?" Mayor McDaniels asked. "We aren't really in the need for more police officers."

"For a small town, you can't have too many," Marcus said. "How many do you have in South Park?"

"Not including the enforcement from Park County, just one," McDaniels answered. "It's all we've ever needed."

"Are you serious?" Marcus asked, blinking at her. "The least amount of officers I've ever heard of in a rural town like this having is three. You really only have one?"

"The problems we have in South Park can be handled by one police officer," McDaniels stated. "Besides, even if I wanted to, I doubt we have it in the budget to hire another employee. I'm sorry, but you might be out of luck."

"At least think about it," Marcus implored. The mayor found that the man was good at puppy dog eyes, something she thought no dignified police officer should be able to do. Yet she found that the power of such a pathetic look was lowering her resolve.

She needed to be strong. She could not give in to the young man, no way no how! But those eyes… No! Be strong, McDaniels. You've made too many mistakes already during you tenure as this crappy town's mayor. For all she knew, this guy could be a disaster.

"Mr. Cole, this is not quite professional," she said, steeling herself. "It's also not the best of times for this. We're in a bad economy and there's not enough money to go around to pay for your salary, even if we wanted you. Economics are a bitch but that's the way things are."

"Are you sure about it?" Marcus Henry asked her, lowering his eyes and allowing the mayor some respite.

"I'm positive," the Mayor confirmed.

"At the very least, could you not throw it away just yet," Marcus asked of her. "Just…just think about it a bit."

"I can't promise you anything but it would be stupid of me to toss you aside," the mayor shrugged.

"Thank you so much," Marcus said to her, giving her a relieved but stunning smile. "I do hope you change your mind."

"We'll see," she said uneasily before changing gears. "You know, this has been bothering me since you first walked in the door. Are you stupid, high, or Mormon?"

"I can assure you Mayor, I am not Mormon," Marcus answered her.

"So we have another potential retard or potential junkie in town, like we haven't got enough of those," Mayor McDaniels grumbled. "Whatever, you can go now."

"I hope to hear from you soon," Marcus said, sending her one last look before he left.

* * *

><p>"So, as you can see, the start of World War II was actually because many of the world leaders at the time were on their periods and not because Germany invaded pansy-ass Poland," Mr. Herbert Garrison instructed, various names of nations and arrows pointing from one another decorating his board. "Now, can any of you little retards tell me why the great and glorious United States decided to sit out for the first couple of years, before those sleazy Japs sucker punched us?"<p>

Jake Silver knew an answer but he didn't know if it was _the_ answer that Mr. Garrison wanted. So, instead of risking his precious neck, he was going to do what he always did. Stay quiet and let someone else take one for the team.

"Does anybody know the answer?" Garrison asked, eyes looking from one student to another. "Come on, it's not that hard. You should have learned about this in your world history class by now."

A bold hand rose up from near the front.

"Okay, how about you, sexually ambiguous Mormon guy," Garrison said.

Jake turned his sights to the brave soul who had volunteered to be their martyr. Gary Harrison if he remembered the guy's name correctly.

"It was the isolationist policies that American politicians enacted during the twenties," Gary answered knowingly. "Many Americans did not want to get involved in another European war."

"Ooh, you were so close at the beginning but you had to let your mouth run, didn't you?" Garrison replied. "Yes, the pussy isolationist policies did play a part but what really kept us out of World War II was…how about you queermo? Do you know the answer?"

Suddenly, Jake found Garrison's attention centered completely on him but he was not concerned with the question that had been asked to him. It was on what came before the question.

"Don't call me queermo!" he projected his voice loudly at the teacher.

"Been there, done that, it's easier to come out of the closet," Garrison dismissed. "So answer the damn question already. Why did American stay out of World War II?"

Jake seethed in his seat. Where did people keep coming up with the idea that he was gay? He wasn't! So what if his eyes were larger than a normal guy's were? So what if his ginger-colored locks were baby soft? He liked conditioning! So what if he was one of the smallest guys in school and wore a black, grey, and white checkered scarf around his neck that many girls thought was in fashion? And so what if he chose to wear some fashionable labels as well?

He was not gay!

"You can be angry later, homo, just answer the question before the bell rings sometime today," Garrison drawled out. "I'd hate for you guys to be burdened with homework tonight."

What a freakin' lie. Well, if he wanted an answer, he'd give it to him!

"The reason we tried to stay out of the war was because we were still in the Great Depression, dumbass!" he snarled at the teacher.

"Not a bad answer but still wrong retard," Garrison said.

"Then what is the right answer?" Jake demanded.

"The right answer? Well it's…uh…you're going to have to give me a moment," Garrison said, clearly having trouble.

"Yeah! Tell us!" a random student in the back picked up.

"Hey, there are a lot of reasons you little bastards," Garrison defended himself. "It's just…oh wait, I remember now. It was because Roosevelt was a Democrat, the party of liberal pussies."

"But the Democrat Party didn't become liberal until the late sixties," Gary had the audacity to point out. "That's when the Civil Rights Act was passed."

"What the hell does the Civil Rights Act have to do with World War II?" Garrison asked, puzzled.

"Well, the seeds for all the racial protests in the fifties and sixties were planted during the forties," Gary said.

"No kiddin', really?" Garrison exclaimed. "I didn't know that!"

Jake didn't either but he hadn't come from some competent school in Utah, did he? Probably a lot of gay people in Utah judging by how Gary over there acted. Not like the real men in Colorado and yes, Jake was a real man. Real butch. Really.

"Wow, you learn something new every day," Garrison wondered out loud.

"So why did the United States stay out of World War II until 1941?" Gary asked.

"Beats the hell out of me," Garrison shrugged. "Why don't you ask the homo kid?"

A few snickers cropped up and Jake almost saw red. Almost. If it wasn't for his incredible restraint, he would have become a murderer right now. Just another crazy killer like all the other psychopaths this school had a tendency to pop out.

Maybe it was a good thing that the bell rung then because he was seriously weighing his options.

"Alright class, tomorrow we go over the best parts of this class, the second world war," Garrison said in the most boring voice you could imagine. "Be here early and don't tell Eric Cartman we're about to go over his hero Adolf Hitler."

* * *

><p>As Garrison's class boiled out, heading for the second lunch of the day, Kyra stood right outside the doorway, waiting for a particular student to appear. Usually one of the last ones because he didn't like rushing away from teachers, Kyra was not disappointed when Gary appeared as she quickly went to his side, joining him on the journey to the cafeteria.<p>

"Hey Kyra, what's up?" Gary asked, always the bright personality that he was. "Sorry I wasn't here yesterday; I got sick over the break."

"That's okay," Kyra replied. "It's just good to see you back."

"How are things with Stan?" Gary asked.

"To be honest, I don't really know," she confessed.

"Really? What's going on?" Gary turned to her, worried. That was a thing Kyra had noticed. Whenever guys were walking and talking, they always looked straight ahead and not at you while girls couldn't take their eyes off you.

"Well, it's kinda hard to explain," she said, looking down towards their moving feet. She trusted Gary not to let her run into anything.

"Try," Gary urged as he slowed his pace down. "How about you start at something recent and we can go from there?"

"Well, yesterday Stan tried to give me a one month anniversary gift," Kyra said. "It was that new game that I'd been keeping an eye out on."

"Not really seeing the problem yet but go on," Gary told her.

"I already bought the game so I feel guilty about it," Kyra continued. "However, Stan has the idea to give each other our copies so that we can both play with each other online."

"Uh huh, and?" Gary pressed.

"Stan's just paying so much attention to me," bubbled out of Kyra. She hadn't meant to say that but the words had just come out.

"You feel suffocated?" Gary suggested.

"Yeah, I do," Kyra admitted. "Is that a bad thing?"

"Depends," Gary said as he looked straight ahead of them. "From what I know about Stan, when he gives his heart, he gives the whole thing. He identifies with the person of affection, that's you, so much that he starts acting like he and you are more like one person. One mindset. He did that with Wendy a lot and even she felt smothered."

"So what do I do?" Kyra pressed.

"Well, you could tell him to back off a bit," Gary mused, "but when Stan does something, he tends to do extremes. He gives you all of his attention or none of it. But that's just how he acts with relationships. Everything else he's moderate, he's just right. Relationships are complicated, sure, but with Stan complicated is easy. He takes things to a different level."

Kyra hung on the young Mormon's words, drinking them up like they were gospel. He was coming up with something; just a little bit more and he would tell her what to do.

"I guess you could sit him down and talk," Gary continued, "however you don't want to use the words 'we need to talk.' That'll scare any guy poopless."

"Wait, poopless?" Kyra interrupted.

"Yeah, poopless," Gary said, looking back at her. "You know, scare the poop out of him."

"I know but I'm used to hearing that differently," Kyra said. "It's usually shitless."

"We do things differently in my family," Gary shrugged.

"Back to what you were saying," Kyra prompted.

"Right…I was saying…oh yeah, talking with Stan," Gary mused, thinking back to what he had been saying before Kyra had interrupted him. "You need to talk with him but don't say 'we need to talk.' No guy likes here those four words strung together in one sentence. It makes them think they did something wrong and they have to change just to make the girl happy. It's too one sided so you have to be a bit delicate. Don't place blame because 'we need to talk' automatically assigns blame to the guy and you don't want to go there.

"Instead, sit him down and tell him that you're overwhelmed. Tell him that you are new to having a girlfriend/boyfriend relationship. Since Stan has dated before, bring that up, tell him you don't know if this is how relationships like these go. Make him feel like he's an expert, that he's in control and doesn't need to be so close. You won't be going anywhere but at the same time you want to take it slow enough so that you can fully enjoy everything."

If she had a pad and pen in her hand, she'd be jotting notes down. Gary did bring up a good point that Stan was indeed her first boyfriend but she wasn't Stan's first girlfriend.

"But how can I tell him all that?" she asked. "What if I forget to mention something?"

"Don't worry about that," Gary told her. "Let him know that you need enough space to savor this but to stay close so that it doesn't go stale. You gotta encourage him but also tell him to not be so overpowering. Look there, he's coming our way."

Kyra looked away from Gary, spotting Stan talking and laughing with Kenny just down the hall and she felt her heart speed up a bit. They had only been dating for about a mouth and he still was making her heart race. She suddenly felt so lucky that she had found someone who could make her feel this way instead of letting the fire within die down.

"Go to him," Gary told her. "Say hi and tell him you'll see him later whether it's in class or after school. Doing little things like that will make him less likely to try and monopolize your time."

"Alright," she agreed to the plan. She tried to square her shoulders but Gary pushed one down, the other falling along with it.

"Be casual," Gary replied. "Don't man up like you're about to go to war. You gotta be relaxed. Now go over there."

Okay, she could do this.

Even though she had taken the lead, putting space between her and Gary as she headed over to Stan, it was Stan who spotted her first and she was awed by how his face brightened up. It never ceased to amaze her how powerful Stan's expressions could be and what he could convey through nonverbal communication. He was happy to see her and she hoped that her own body language reciprocated.

"Kyra!" Stan exclaimed as he wrapped an arm around her. "Talk about running into each other! I was just talking about you with Kenny."

"You were?" she almost squeaked. From the corner of her eye, she could see Gary giving her encouraging looks. "I…I just saw you walking by and thought I'd come over to say hi."

"Freakin' adorable," Stan murmured to her as he pressed the side of his face against her, taking in a deep breath. Was he smelling her because she really didn't mind it.

"So where are you going?" she asked, her heart hammering now. How could he still have this effect over her?

"Garrison's," Stan grumbled, obviously not looking forward to it. "What about you?"

"Lunch," she answered.

"Man, it sucks we don't have the same one," Stan mourned.

"Well, if you're hungry after school, maybe we could go somewhere and get something," she suggested. Where had that come from?

"A genius as well as cute," Stan praised her. "It's a date," he winked at her as he pulled away.

Now she felt cold. He was producing so much warmth that it was always a shame when she couldn't be near him.

As Stan bid her goodbye for now, Gary pulled her to the cafeteria, asking her how things went.

"We're going out after school," she told him.

"Really?" Gary asked, intrigued. "Where are you going?"

"Don't know," she replied, eyes widening slightly as the implication reached her.

"Were you the one to suggest going out?" Gary asked without warning.

"Yeah," she admitted hesitantly.

"Huh. Well, I don't think it'll be a problem so long as you let him pick where you want to go," Gary said.

At that, Kyra frowned. "Why do that? Doesn't the girl decide where to eat?"

"That's only when you're married," Gary said. "When a guy has vowed to be with you for the rest of your life, that's when he hangs up any delusions he has of being number one and caters to your every whim. There's a reason it's called the ball and chain."

"Ball and chain? What's that?" she asked, her frown deepening.

As if realizing he had said too much, Gary backtracked a bit. "What I mean, since you're still boyfriend and girlfriend, the guy still has some choice over where to go for eating. Remember, _he's_ the one who's courting you. He has to impress you and to do that, he's gotta surprise you. Sure, he might make some choices you don't like but he's gotta learn your likes and dislikes and that includes more than just the video games you enjoy."

Okay, she'd let him go this once. He was her friend, after all. What he was saying was making some sense.

"Alright," she agreed. Deciding that they had talked about her enough, it was time to see what was going on with him. "So what's going on with you? Anything interesting happening?"

"Eh, it's the same old, same old," Gary shrugged. "Taking care of my friends, having fun when I can, seeing if I can meet new people."

"So you can invite them over for dinner?" she teased.

"You bet," Gary chirped. "There's no place better to learn about someone than at the dinner table with a table full of food."

* * *

><p>That baked potato didn't stand a chance, Charlie observed. When Bain had gotten it, it had been still in one piece but halfway into lunch it was nothing but a mound of mush and potato skin from Bain's continued stabbing of it with a plastic fork.<p>

It was the third fork he was on and when each one broke, he had to get up from his seat and get a new one. And Charlie had watched it all happen like it was a train wreck in action. She sighed, already knowing that it had to do with Wolf. She had caught Bain talking to himself, trying to figure out the best way to get away with Wolf's murder while…leaving South Park's economy intact? What did that mean?

Well, so far Charlie hadn't needed to bring out an apple to take his mind off his anger but she had one on her just in case Bain proved to be too much trouble. It was an insurance policy but she didn't think that she would need it. She could handle the asshole, she did it every day.

It was a gig though it didn't pay. If the assholes around them realized what kind of public service she was doing for them, they'd be throwing all their cash at her to keep this anger personified piece of shit from going nuclear.

"What's pissing you off today?" she asked. "It's midday and that's an awful long time to still be pissed. By now you're usually plotting someone's demise."

"That should tell you that this one is special," Bain grounded out.

Charlie rolled her eyes. "If you're still ticked at that black market asshole—"

"He's not black market, just a sleazy 'businessman'," Bain interrupted her, the tone of his voice on the word "businessman" mocking.

"Whatever," Charlie sniffed. "I'll beat him up if that'll make you feel better."

"Don't bother," Bain spat, looking to a side. "Wouldn't want the dow to go down a hundred points if you did that."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Charlie demanded.

"Nothing at all," Bain said dismissively.

"Offer stills stands," she said instead of pressing that line of conversation.

"He's a gnat, not part of the picture," Bain retorted. "Now, if you know of some way to get rid of irritating sluts without the use of a Viking funeral, I'm all ears."

What the hell was that supposed to mean? Why was he bringing up Viking funerals—oh. That. Now why was he bringing up what she did with Jack? Then it clicked in her head and she groaned.

Now how could she have forgotten about the only person on Earth that could really get under Bain's skin? As deep as she was able to get, she knew for a fact that no one could annoy Bain as much as his older sister could. By virtue of being his sister, that meant Bain couldn't lay a hand on her without the cops looking at him as the prime suspect. He did have some knowledge on police procedures and it was only that that stood between Sierra Cynis and Winslow.

Charlie had only met Sierra a handful of times and she could admit, she was not impressed with the eldest Cynis sibling. Even going in knowing how biased Bain was towards her, a lot of the things he mentioned about his sister happened to have more than a kernel of truth.

Sierra was an attention whore. If you thought high school girls were bad, Sierra had never grown out of that phase and according to Bain, she had always been that way. Sierra always had to be the center of attention and after attempting to listen to that girl, Charlie knew that there wasn't much beneath the surface. Sierra was like a broken record and rarely had something new to say.

The only thing she had going for her was her beauty and she had definitely inherited some of Sybil Cynis' looks.

Even Charlie would admit she'd go gay for Bain's mother, she was that attractive.

Forgetting that intentionally repressed thought, Charlie refocused on Bain's current domestic situation. Other than staying away, there wasn't really much Bain could do about it, could he? And hey, hadn't Sierra brought someone home with her?

Yeah, Bain had told her earlier. Sierra was dating a cop. Oy, that was a disaster waiting to happen. Had this occurred maybe six, seven months ago, Charlie would have offered to let Bain stay with her but she wasn't that suicidal and things at "home" were complicated.

That last thing she needed was for someone like Bain to be there.

Heh, looks like he was up shit creek without a paddle on this one. She'd like to help but Bain was one of those people you could stand only in small doses. Compared to everyone else, though, her "dose" was near lethal.

The chair beside her moved and she turned her distracted attention to whoever had the balls to sit at the same table as Bain. She wasn't surprised to see it was Christophe taking a seat next to her but the anger vibes she was sensing from across the table intensified.

Oh yeah, the only guys with a Y chromosome at this table despised each other. How could she have forgotten that?

"'Ello, Charlie," Christophe greeted her lazily, leaning his weight back into his chair. Taking a look at Bain who was now glaring at him, the French native asked, "Es et just me or does your pet wheezle look rabid today?"

"Try to tone it down today," Charlie cautioned him. "In fact, for the indeterminable future, don't try to make his mood any worse than it already is."

"I take et somezing has come up, yes?" Christophe said, turning back towards her, ignoring the threat that was only a few feet away…

"More or less," Charlie shrugged. "I don't think he'd appreciate it if I told you."

"Now I must know," Christophe said, leaning towards her, his eagerness barely contained.

"Mind your own business, French fry," Bain snapped at him, his grip on his plastic fork tightening.

For some reason, Charlie remembered being told that Bain was involved with the reason why metal eating utensils were no longer used at school.

"Sounds juicy," Christophe commented. "My curiosity has been piqued and you know, Charlie, that once aroused et has to be satisfied."

"Drop it," Charlie ordered. "Do you want to be the one to babysit him?" she added, gesturing with her head towards Bain.

Christophe looked over at the other male and grimaced. "Oh well, I guess I'll have to find somezing else zat weel satisfy me."

"Your euphemisms are so obvious and clear that I can see through them," Bain stated. "I thought the French were supposed to be flowery but I guess that I have been proven wrong."

"I am suddenly reminded why everyone avoids your 'pleasant' company," Christophe sneered.

"And I am reminded of how few brain cells that sorry excuse for an epileptic seizure must have," Bain retorted. "How she finds someone as filthy as you to be some sort of sexual Adonis goes beyond my impressive intelligence."

"Cool it," Charlie ordered, shooting a glare at Bain then Christophe. Honestly, why did it have to be her who had to play grown-up whenever these two were within ten feet of each other? She hated playing grown-up because it was so much more fun being the kid. "Do I have to put you two in time out?"

"Try it," Bain challenged her.

"Your 'ands are certainly full 'ere," Christophe said. "I wonder if et will be possible for him to behave long enough to take you to prom."

"Excuse me, what?" Bain snapped, staring long and hard at Christophe. Charlie noticed almost immediately that the anger that had been so thick around him seemed to have decreased by, like, eighty percent. "What did you just say?"

"I'm zinking zat maybe Charlie ought to consider going out wiz somebody else come prom," Christophe stated, trading Bain look for look. Charlie realized that Christophe hadn't noticed the change in Bain yet or else he would have been more suspicious.

But, to both her and Christophe's obvious surprise, Bain leaned back in his seat, looking contemplatively. "That time of the year is coming up, isn't it?" he murmured to himself thoughtfully.

Okay, there was no obvious anger anymore but that made Charlie even more concerned. Whenever Bain radically changed in mood like this, something bad was always to follow.

"I'm surprised you 'aven't noticed yet," Christophe snorted at Bain. "Butters Stotch 'as been approaching everyone about et all morning. Ze posters advertising for et are just starting to be put up."

"Is that so?" Bain questioned rhetorically.

"Okay, what's up with you?" Charlie demanded, staring Bain down as hard as she could. "What the hell is your twisted little mind thinking of this time?"

"Nothing much, dear Charlotte," Bain drawled out. "Just some preparations that I have been reminded of, that's all."

Bain's assurance did not assure her whatsoever.

* * *

><p>Cartman had to wait until school was over before he could try and approach Brianna Vargas but before he could get close to her, she had already left school grounds. Seeing her vanish onto one of the parked buses just as the doors closed behind her had ticked the husky teen off.<p>

He was going to have to track her down quickly before any of the guys found out that he had been lying out his ass at lunch. He needed Brianna to agree to be his bitch as soon as possible and especially before Kyle got himself a stable girlfriend.

That boyfriend of his did not count because he was the very definition of unstable.

So once he got home, he had to bitch at his mother to help him find the yellow pages and from there, get Brianna's address. That was easy enough and once he had the address, he was out of the house, hurrying as fast as he could while leaving his lazy as hell mother to pick up after him.

"Gotta…get…bitch…" he panted as he ran as fast as he could down the sidewalk. "Need…girlfriend…before…Kyle."

Ahead of him, he could see Token and Clyde walking towards him. They were blocking his way! Without slowing down, he shoved Clyde off the sidewalk and into a snowdrift while Token almost stumbled out into the street.

"Sorry! Gotta get my bitch!" he shouted back at the two as he continued running.

Sitting up in the snowdrift, staring after Cartman, Clyde entered his default mode whenever anything unforeseen happened to him.

He began to cry.

By then, Cartman was too far away to hear but even if he had been close enough to hear it, he wouldn't have cared. He had more important things to do, such as beating Kyle!

Chanting Brianna's address as he continued to run, he found the place he was looking for and came to a stop right in front of the house. He would have banged on the front door or continuously rang the doorbell in the annoying way that all impatient pricks did, not that he was an impatient prick. He was too cool to be a prick.

No, he just wanted to make himself presentable and that involved adjusting the collar of his coat, fixing his hat and making sure his gut wasn't peeking out. He completely ignored the large sweat stains under his armpits as he judged himself good enough.

Then he began to rapidly press on the doorbell, ringing it like an impatient prick would.

"Come on. Come on!" he said to himself, willing someone inside the house to answer the door. "Come on!"

The door opened and Cartman found himself being confronted with a rather large man who was wearing a frilly apron and holding a feather duster.

"Can I help you?" the man asked, raising an eyebrow at him.

"Does Brianna Vargas live here?" Cartman demanded, trying to look around the femininely dressed man.

"Brianna? She's not at her mother's so yes, she does," the man answered. "What business do you have with my daughter?"

"Is she here right now?" Cartman demanded, completely ignoring the man's question.

"Yes, she is," the man who Cartman determined to be Brianna's father answered slowly.

Shoving the man out of his way, he rushed towards the stairs and barreled up them, sounding like a herd of stampeding elephants. Finding a door that had a small sign with the word Brianna hanging on it, he began to bang on the door.

A moment later, Brianna opened her bedroom door, completely surprised at seeing him here. "Cartman?"

Before Cartman could urgently say what he wanted to his soon-to-be bitch, Brianna's father had reached the top of the stairs, regarding the male teen like he was a deranged lunatic. "Brianna? Do you know this kid?"

Brianna's eyes went over to her father and her face reddened slightly in embarrassment. "Dad, do you have to wear that?" she groaned out loud to him.

"Honey, you know I'm dusting the house today and beating the rugs," her father said.

"But that's your 'flaming homosexual' apron," Brianna moaned. "You told me you don't want to advertise to everyone about your sexuality!"

"Brianna, all my other aprons were dirty," her father told her. "I had no choice. But, honey bumpkin, can you tell me if you know this boy who barged into our house or do I have to call the cops?"

"I know him," Brianna sighed. "Don't worry, I'll take care of him."

"Do try to use protection if that's what he came here for," her father said. "The last thing I need your mother harping on me is if you become pregnant."

"Dad!" she exclaimed, horrified.

"Just sayin'," her father shrugged as he started back down the stairs.

Finally! Though Cartman enjoyed seeing other people get humiliated while he had a front row seat, he had something more important to do.

"You have five seconds to tell me what you're doing here before I'm kicking you out," Brianna warned him. "Before you try being all macho, my dad knows some tae kwon do and can kick your ass from one side of town to the other without breaking a sweat."

"Brianna," Cartman stated breathlessly as he grabbed her shoulders. "I need you to do something very important for me."

Blinking at him, taken off guard by how passionate he was being, Brianna waited for him to continue.

"Brianna, I need you to be my girlfriend," he told her seriously. "I need you to tell everyone that we're a couple and if any of the guys ask, you tell them you're my bitch. Can you do that for me?"

"What the hell is this shit?" Brianna snapped out of her stupor. "Are you freakin' drunk?"

"The only thing I'll be drunk on is the taste of Kyle's bitter tears once he knows I got a girlfriend before him," Cartman said, looking deep into her incredulous eyes. "Will you do it?"

"You…want me to be your girlfriend because Kyle doesn't have one?" Brianna asked. That amazed tone was still in her voice but why wouldn't she be? He was Eric Cartman, the sexiest guy in school! He literally had to beat girls off him with a stick because they all wanted a piece of him.

"My bitch, yes," Cartman agreed with her summary. Any second now, she should be jumping on him and tearing his clothes off. Oh yeah.

Brianna sent him a frown. "Do I have time to think about this? I like to weigh all my options and consider possibilities become deciding to do anything."

"You mean procrastinating?" Cartman asked to clarify what she just said.

"Yes," Brianna agreed.

"No, no I need an answer right now," Cartman ordered, crossing his arms over his chest. "Naoh, ya gonna be mah bitch or what?"

Brianna bit her lip, considering his proposal. Why she should be considering it when she should have said yes right away remained a mystery to Cartman. He started tapping his foot impatiently, annoyed that she was still thinking about it even after two seconds.

"Well?" he pressed.

"Alright, fine, I'll do it," Brianna decided. It sounded like she was making a spontaneous decision but Cartman easily ignored that. He had his bitch now! Now the guys couldn't rip on him for lying! He could already taste Kyle's tears now.

But first thing was first. He needed to seal the deal on this relationship and that meant doing the very thing his mom was good at.

"Sweet!" he exclaimed as he tightened his grip on her shoulders. "Give me some sugar, bitch!"

Brianna put her hands on his wrists and before he could smash his face into hers and try to stick his tongue down her throat (Kenny always said girls liked tongue for some reason), the room spun and he found himself on top of her bed. How'd he get here so fast? Eh, he must be so sexy that his new bitch couldn't control herself and wanted to screw right then and there.

It was sometimes a curse being this sexy but Cartman bore his burden humbly.

"Come over here, bitch," he ordered, slapping a beefy hand on her mattress. "Let's seal this deal."

"I think you're moving a bit fast," Brianna stated.

"Ey! How else are we supposed to cement the fact that we're together?" Cartman demanded. "All the fanfiction I've read says that when two people get together, they screw each other's brains out! Get with the program already!"

"That's not how it really works," Brianna deadpanned.

"Are you calling all those intellectual writers liars? Because those underage, teenage girls know what they're talking about," Cartman stated. "Now get over here. I promise I'll be gentle, since it's your first time."

"You've had sex before," Brianna said rather than asked.

"O-of course I have!" Cartman insisted, wondering where all this scrutiny was coming from.

"I see…" Brianna commented as she reached a hand into the drawer of her bedside table, pulling something out that Cartman couldn't see. To be honest, he didn't really care; he just wanted to find out if all the hype Kenny made sex out to be was really true.

Okay, now she was obeying him, as she should, and was taking a seat next to him. Cartman smirked at her as reached out to try and grab her shoulders again. He didn't anticipate that she would shove him back onto the mattress and lean over him. Just as he was thinking that his new bitch was one of those aggressive types, he heard an ominous click along with the feel of metal pressing against his skin.

"What the—?" he looked up and saw that one of his hands had been handcuffed to the headboard. "The fuck is this…?"

Distracted, he had not seen Brianna pull away and quickly retrieve another pair of cuffs which she used on his other wrist, restraining him.

"Ey. Ey! What the hell is this?" Cartman bellowed as he struggled with the restraints.

Brianna, meanwhile, had pulled away and was casually walking over to her closet. "You remember Rod Woods, right? The guy who died last year? Well, did you know that he was into a lot of unusual stuff?"

"What are you babbling about? Get me down from here!" he ordered her, continuing his fruitless struggles.

Ignoring him, Brianna continued, "Did you also know that he passed some of his tastes onto me? We were friends, I guess you could say, and we kinda did some things that are sort of out of the mainstream…"

Cartman was oblivious to the changing tone of her voice, focused more on his righteous anger. He was supposed to be the one doing things around her, not her! She was just supposed to be lay down and let him do whatever he wanted, wait on him every hour of every day, and—what was that she was holding?

"What the hell is that thing?" he demanded of the oblong object Brianna held in her hand. "Don't you ignore me, ho! What is that—ey! Don't ignore me! What are you doing with my pants? Be gentle, I chafe easily! What's that fucking bottle you're holding? What are you doing with it? Oh who cares, let me go you…what are you doing? Why are you going down there? What are you—no. No! Whatever you're doing stop it! Stop it! No! No! Nnnnnoooooooooooo!"

* * *

><p>Oh the first floor, Sergio Vargas glanced up at the ceiling where he heard the wail of despair and horror shriek.<p>

"Must be some new game kids are doing today," he shrugged as he picked up the woven rug that usually resided in the kitchen. He needed to beat the thing and get some of the Cheerios that were stuck in it out.

Whatever those crazy kids were doing up there, he was sure they'd be okay.

* * *

><p>Had Brianna been the smoking type, she would have lit one up and enjoyed the rush of nicotine after a successful round. But she wasn't that type of person so she had to settle for the afterglow instead.<p>

Unfortunately, she couldn't stick around too long. Noticing how low the sun was in the sky, she checked the time and saw that she would have to be leaving soon. She was meeting up with Wendy and some others at the school for something important. She had gotten a frantic call last night from Wendy and was told to meet up at the school this evening.

Normally, Brianna would have just said fuck it and stayed home. She wasn't really the kind of person that did a lot of stuff after a certain time of day but her father just said that she was lazy. That was probably true and she would admit that she wouldn't do more than she had to if she had to do something.

However, Wendy had been so breathless and excited over the phone that Brianna had found herself wondering about what was going on. Whenever something big was going on and Wendy sounded like she did, you knew that something was going down.

She wondered why she got involved with making that pact to try and limit any kind of damage Wendy may wrought when she was in one of her manic moods. After that Franken Farrah Fawcett incident, the other girls had gotten together and made the pact because no one wanted another radical new disease unleashed on the world just because Wendy was steamed. Now that she thought about it, keeping that pact was a lot of work and Brianna did not like to work more than she should.

Looking over at Cartman who was currently free of cuffs and was staring straight ahead with one of those traumatized looks or at least she thought it was trauma. Cartman had thought that he could make her his bitch but she had turned the tables on him hadn't she? Who was the bitch now?

Props to Rod, wherever he was burning in hell. He had been a good teacher and here she was, the student, perfecting the craft.

"Ey," she said and Cartman flinched at her voice. Hmm, maybe she had been a little rough? "I gotta be heading out now. You can get yourself home, right?" When Cartman didn't answer immediately, she asked again in a no nonsense voice, "_Right_?"

"Y-y-yes ma'am," Cartman stuttered.

"Good to know we're on the same page," she told him. "So we're steady now, right?"

"O-o-of c-c-c-course!" Cartman agreed, looking at her fearfully with wide eyes.

"Good, I expect you to greet me when we get to school tomorrow," she said idly as she got up and fixed herself up.

"Y-y-yes ma'am."

"You can go now," she rolled her eyes at him as he scrambled off her bed, eager to please her. He didn't get far from the bed as his limping had really slowed him down.

"Easy there," she said, patting his shoulder. "You don't want to hurt yourself too much just because you were in a hurry." She passed him as she headed out, wondering what had crawled up Wendy's ass this time.

* * *

><p>Alright, was everything set up? Wendy took stock of everything she had. She had the pitchforks over there, the lit torches set up here, the large pile of wood over there and the antique boombox she had positioned right next to her.<p>

All of this was generous provided by Black Market for only $59.99! Remember, come to Black Market for all your angry mob needs!

Yeah, she was ready. Now to wait for the girls to show up and she could get started.

And there they were, piling out of their cars and heading this way. She approved that they were carpooling. She could see the miniscule shrink in their carbon footprint. Back to the real issue, as the girls gathered before her, Wendy could feel her body buzz with anticipation.

"Alright Wendy, what's the deal this time?" Bebe called out to her as she pushed her way to front of the group of fifty some odd girls.

"Wait a minute," Wendy responded, holding a hand up. "I want to give the stragglers a minute to show up before we begin."

Because they were girls, they thought the request reasonable. Wendy took the time to observe just who had shown up. Bebe obviously, Heidi and Red were over there, Mari was just lurking on the fringes, looking bored as usual, but Roxi hadn't shown up yet. Wonder what was keeping her. Others she recognized immediately were Gwendolyn Long, Violet Robins, and Ella Robinson who were gathered together with a few other girls on one side of the crowd. On the other side stood Brittany Love, Bonnie Snyder, and Aurora Neilson and some other girls who were eyeing the girls on Gwendolyn's side suspiciously. Brianna Vargas and decided to make an appearance and Kyra McCloud was standing by, looking around curiously.

"Okay, time's up," Bebe announced. "What's this all about?"

"As some of you girls know already, I had a home invader last night," Wendy began to explain, deciding that stragglers or no, she had to get on with this. "She tried to break in and when she couldn't, tried to convince me to let her in."

"Did you let her in?" Violet Robins called out to her.

"No, because I figured out just what this would-be burglar was after," Wendy answered, looking at each individual girl gravely. "And it goes beyond just me. Girls, we have a lesbian rapist haunting our streets."

Silence. Wendy felt the stares of slack jawed amazement aimed at her but she was not intimidated by it. She waited for the news to sink in, waiting for some kind of reaction to prompt her to continue.

"You guys hear that?" Gwendolyn shouted. "The LESBIANs have gone crazy! One of their members has decided to give up on boys and come after us girls! Their immorality has fallen to lows so low that even I had not foreseen it!"

"Really? What are we going to do?" Violet wailed, panicking.

"Fuck you Wendy 2!" Brittany shouted back at Gwendolyn.

"What'd you call me?" Gwendolyn snarled.

"It's probably one of you MUFFDIVERs trying to frame us for crimes we did not commit!" Brittany accused. "You try to take the moral high ground but in reality you're really as baseless as any attention-seeking whore!"

"Them fighin' words," Ella declared as she raised her fists up, taking up a boxing pose.

"GIRLS!" Wendy cried out. "Knock it off!"

"Yeah, shut the fuck up all of you!" Bebe agreed, glaring the divided group of girls down before turning the glare towards Wendy. "Wendy, explain."

"I don't know what the heck lesbians or muffdivers have to do with anything but we're not here to discuss that," Wendy stated. "We're here because there's a prowler out there dressed up in black, trying to break into our bedrooms and perform female rape on us. It doesn't matter that you might not like people here because the fact of the matter is that we're all in danger here. Our virginities are in danger!"

Bebe gave her a deadpanned look. "Are you serious?"

"Of course I am!" Wendy found herself suddenly trying to defend what she was saying.

"Wendy, girl, you know I love you like a sister," Bebe told her carefully. "But I doubt anybody here is still a virgin. Hell, you're not even a virgin so why are you so worried about your 'virtue'?"

"What do you mean that no one here is a virgin?" Wendy asked, flabbergasted.

Bebe sighed. "Show of hands, who's had their cherry popped?"

At least forty girls raised their hands, a couple of others quickly raising theirs as they began to realize that they weren't part of the majority.

Wendy narrowed her eyes. "Alright, who here hasn't had their cherry popped by Rod Woods or Kenny McCormick?"

Only about five hands remained up.

"The fact remains, practically no one here is a virgin," Bebe stated.

"Well, that's because they've had their guy cherry popped," Wendy proclaimed. Now this got her some curious looks.

"Our guy cherry?" Gwendolyn spoke up, giving her a skeptical look. "This I gotta hear."

"Yeah, don't you girls know?" Wendy asked, starting to pick up some steam. "Everybody here is born with two cherries. One is our guy cherry which only a guy can pop. The other is our gay cherry that only a lesbian can take. Show of hands, who here has had their gay cherry popped?"

No hands were up. Well, not quite. Someone in the back raised theirs hesitantly but everyone politely ignored it. No sense singling anybody out.

"It should be our choice whether we lose our gay cherry," Wendy continued justly. "Many of us are going to choose not to have that cherry popped. In fact, there are some of us who will never scissor with another girl. That should remain our choice. We shouldn't let some prowler take that away from us!"

There were murmurings, some of the girls starting to agree with the logic.

"Oh my God, what will happen to me if my gay cherry gets popped?" Rory exclaimed. "Is my blood going to turn green and acidic? Will I have gay germs all over me? Oh no, what if I get a pimple!"

The panic levels were starting to rise as girls began to wail about losing their gay cherry but Wendy knew what she was doing. She had led mobs before and this time was no different. You needed to raise emotions up and once they reached a certain level, you then took control of the flow of the emotions and direct it to a cause. Your cause.

In some ways, she was a bit like Eric Cartman with the ability to manipulate others. Wendy liked to think that she wasn't as bad or detestable as Cartman was but there was a thin line that separated her from him and right now she was dancing haphazardly on that line.

Unnoticed, Wendy pressed the play button on the antique boom box, the sounds of an orchestra stating to play lowly. It was setting the mood, a dark one, and Wendy began to take it further as she began to spin her web of words.

"Don't you guys understand?" she said emphatically. "This rapist will steal away your gay cherry!" Gasps. "She'll come after you in the night! None of us are safe until we take her down. I say we kill the bitch!"

The mood was more than set. The emotions were so high that no other words could be used. So, being girls, they did the only thing that felt logical at the time to explain these emotions.

They began to do a musical number.

"We're not safe until she's dead!" one girl declared.

"She'll be stalking us at night!" another girl cried.

"Set to sacrifice our gay innocence to her sexual appetite," one horror filled girl stage whispered.

"She'll wreak havoc on our bodies if we let her wander free…" Bebe said in dawning realization, terror beginning to grip at her.

And here was where Wendy Testaburger stepped in, pushing their number to a higher and higher crescendo. "C'mon, it's time to take some action girls!" she announced in an overpowering loud voice that directed all attention towards her, snatching one of the flaming torches she had set up earlier. "It's time to follow me!" she declared as she threw the torch at the large pile of wood that she had also set up earlier.

They all stopped what they were doing, waiting for the pile of wood to catch on fire because then the rest of the song would be more dramatic that way. After a moment of staying still, frozen in their horrified positions, the pile of wood finally took to flame and the girls let out a silent sigh of relief.

It would have been a bitch if they had to start this thing all over again.

"Through the cold, through the snow, through the streets and the town, it'll be a nightmare but something thrilling's going down," Wendy sang malevolently to the girls as she held a pitchfork in her hands. "Say a prayer, and we're there, in the middle of our city, where there's something muffdiving inside."

The girls were moving with the tune, their emotions being tempered into moral anger and all of it was being directed at a single target. The very person for whom they were all beginning to fear. But now they were starting to gain a backbone and their courage was being lit aflame by the will of their self-appointed leader.

It was now time to give this lesbian boogeyman a form, though.

"It's a bitch, she is horny, very randy," Wendy described to them. "Sweaty hands and kitty claws for the fiend. Hear her moan, see her rape, make our periods come late, unless she's dead! Good and dead! Kill the bitch!"

Cheers were now being thrown at her instead of skepticism. Wendy had her mob.

"Come on girls," she said to them. "Grab your weapons and tonight, we'll rid our town of this menace. Who's with me?"

The replies of "I am" were music to her soul and then they launched into next phase of the "spontaneous" song.

"Grab a torch, get a fork," the girls caroled.

"Set your courage on your breastplate," Wendy encouraged.

"We're counting on Wendy to lead the way," the other girls followed up as they all began marching away from the school, heading into town.

While the streets were normally lit with the dim lighting of the streetlights, they did nothing to take away the fiery light cast by their torches that cast an ominous orange hue over their surroundings, the hue growing as the continued their march.

"Through the cold, through the snow, where within a besieged town, there is something lurking that you don't see every day," the girls continued to sing as their anger and fury began to lend them strength they did not know they had. "It's a bitch, one as black as a devil, we won't rest until she's burnt and deceased!"

Above them, watching them upon the rooftops, an unnoticed masked figure stared at them astounded.

So astounded that when he spoke, he forgot to deepen his voice as a lighter, more pleasant voice said, "The fuck…?" Eyes widening as he realized his slip, he corrected himself with a more gruff, "What the fuck?"

Mysterion could see that trouble was abound and he knew that it was up to him to put a stop to it.

* * *

><p>Author's Note: If you haven't figured out what song I have viciously bastardized, it's The Mob Song from the Disney film <em>Beauty and the Beast<em>. I swear, after reading the lyrics to that song, in the original film, there was little to no rhyming in it. Surprisingly, that gave me a lot more leeway with the improvised lyrics. However, if you think the song's over…don't count on it just yet. We continue in the next chapter and if you think your character was a bit OOC in the last portion of this chapter, remember, this is South Park. Extreme and ridiculous reactions are the norm and no character, even OCs, are immune to it.

Second Disclaimer: I do not own Disney's _The Mob Song_ even though I bastardized it.

Jake Silver: **Sugarbubblegum333**


	6. Def Con 50

Author's Note: Hope you guys are having a happy new year and didn't indulge too much during the festivities. Wouldn't want you getting hurt on me. While I've known about this for a couple months, I have found out that everyone's favorite sociopathic OC may have his eye on the White House. Wondering where this is coming from? Check out Bain Capital, an actual business founded by current Republican nominee contender Mitt Romney. Naturally, I was astonished by such a coincidence but now I wonder…

Anyway, this chapter is coming out quicker than the others because it is more in the spirit of South Park than other chapters will be. The chaos, the extreme reactions, and the unexpected happenings, all this and more in this chapter so sit back and get ready for the crunch. Enjoy.

Disclaimer: I do not own South Park or Disney's _The Mob Song _which has been bastardized for the sole purpose of parody.

Warning: language, violence

Def Con 50

Headlights illuminated the way for Randy Marsh as he hummed a tune to fill the silence in his car. The radio had broken and he hadn't had time to get it fixed so he was left to his own devises went he drove from place to place.

Well, that and he was lazy. He was always going to get it fixed tomorrow but that had been twenty tomorrows ago.

He was out tonight of all nights because it was bingo night at the community center. His dad couldn't go tonight and in order to not have the bastard bitch at him, Randy took the old man's space for the night.

And he had won twenty bucks! This bingo thing was amazing! That was like, three bottles of beer at the bar! Free! He had to start coming back to this. His father would be irritated about it but hey, it was all in the name of free cash—er, quality family time. Say, maybe he could force—invite Sharon and Stan. That would like double their chances!

As he turned onto Main Street, taking the quickest way back home, he found that his way was blocked. Slamming on the break, he skidded to a stop, his tires screeching against the pavement. Peering through his dirtied windshield with narrowed eyes, he spotted a large group of girls wielded pitchforks and torches…and they were singing!

Oh my God.

He grabbed the stickshift and put it into reverse, slamming his foot on the accelerator. He drove wildly backwards for a block before losing control and slamming the trunk end of his car into a streetlight. The crash was harsh, his neck snapping back and forth, possibly giving him whiplash.

He didn't have time to sit around in a daze though. The words of one of the girls, "We'll lay siege to the town and get that bitch's head!" reminded him of the impending horror that was descending on their town.

Shoving open the car door with more force than was necessary, Randy threw himself out of the vehicle, intending to run home, when another thought hit him. Everyone was leaving the community center right about now. They needed to be warned!

Changing his direction, Randy began heading for the community center, screaming out along the way, "Get off the streets! Def Con 50! Def Con 50!"

* * *

><p>The Stotch family was leaving bingo night a slightly wealthier family than when they had first come in. Butters had had a winning streak in there with an occasional loss here and there but Stephan Stotch couldn't have been more proud of his son. He was finally starting to bring some money into their household and it was about time too!<p>

"Have fun, Butters?" he asked, wanting to be sure that the eighteen year old would be willing to come back next week to win another jackpot. He'd better or he was so going to be grounded.

"Yeah Dad," Butters answered, smiling blissfully. "It was really fun stamping the numbers and calling out bingo when I got five in a row and it was all sorts of fun."

"Well that's great!" he responded. "How'd you like to come back next week?"

"Why, that would be neat," Butters said.

"Stephan?" Linda Stotch asked, giving him a quizzical look. Stephan made a note to let her in on what he was thinking later. Sure, she would be against it at first, but he knew he could get her to come around. Butters would finally be making a name for himself and who know? They might be able to expand his repertoire to include poker and blackjack!

Imagine, his son competing in the World Poker Tournament!

However, he wasn't able to say anything else because he, along with everyone else in the parking lot, heard the cries of a frantic Randy Marsh.

"Aaaaaawwwwwwww!"

The dark-haired man came up to a stop in front the Stotch family, sweating running down his face and eyes so fearful as if he had seen the devil himself.

"Randy? Randy! What's going on man?" Stephan demanded, putting his arms out to steady the panicking man.

"Def Con 50! Def Con 50!" Randy wailed out to anyone who would listen to him.

Stephan stiffened, the same horror that Randy was expressing infecting him to. Other men in the parking lot began panicking too, rushing to their cars and dragging along their clueless wives and/or girlfriends.

"You…you're mistaken, right?" Stephan's voice cracked.

"What's Def Con 50?" Linda asked, not getting it. Even Butters was confused. Oh God, he had failed to educate his son on the Def Con system!

Shoving Stephan aside, Randy grabbed Linda by her shoulders and shouted to her, "Fifty girls, on their periods, at the same time, in the same place! And they're heading this way!"

The implications hitting Linda, the blonde woman grabbed at her golden locks and began screaming bloodcurdlingly.

"Butters! Run for your life son! Run for your life!" Stephan cried out as his son obeyed, exclaiming "Oh hamburgers!" as he ran off.

"Flee! Flee as fast as you can!" Randy urged loudly to anyone who could hear him. "The might of fifty teenage girls on their periods is upon us!"

* * *

><p>Butters panted as he came to a stop, resting his hands on his knees. Hopefully he had run the right way because he did not want to find out what Def Con 50 looked like. It was then that he remembered that he and his parents had driven to the community center and that they could have just taken their car to get away.<p>

And now he was in the middle of town and going back meant risking getting in the way of fifty girls on their periods. He could always walk home but while he was running he had gotten turned around.

So now he was lost. Double darn!

Oh, the world was a dark and lonely place and there was just little ol' him to deal with it. He had thought he had grown out of this phase of his life but really, he was just a candle in the wind…

Yes, he had been listening to Elton John a lot. He liked that one song he always sang.

The whipping of a cape startled him out of his thoughts and he looked up just in time to see the dark vigilante Mysterion jump from one building to another, most likely trying to head off the Def Con 50.

Huh, the adults were pretty scared of those girls weren't they? No, they were absolutely terrified judging by how his parents had reacted. It really took a lot to make them lose their cool but when it happened, Butters was always quick to note it in case he ended up getting grounded because of it.

And apparently, Mysterion had heard about it and was going to try and find a way to stop it. It had to be really big if _he_ was getting involved. It was kinda a shame, now that he thought about it. Such an anticipated force of chaos, uncontrolled and not understood… If there was maybe a way to harness it—

He sucked in a quick breath, his eyes widening in realization.

If something like a Def Con 50 could be harnessed…he who had control of it would…

Quick! He needed to go home and change! This sounded like a prime opportunity for Professor Chaos to do what he did best!

* * *

><p>"Alright girls, we are about to enter the hunting grounds of this bitch!" Wendy announced to the mob. "Be on the lookout for anything suspicious and if you see someone dressed up in a crappy black cat outfit, sound the alarm!"<p>

"Yeah!" was the general consensus of the group and as they began flooding the streets, Wendy paused as she noticed at least one person who wasn't really participating.

"Mari! What are you doing?" she asked as she took said girl off to the side. "Why are you…holding a camera?"

"Oh, don't mind me," Mari said.

"Why aren't you…you know…acting like a member of the mob?" Wendy inquired.

"I don't really care about this prowler you're talking about," Mari shrugged. "You know what, just act like I'm not here. That way all your emotions will be genuine when you catch what's her face. It's going to be sweet when you do that."

"You're…taping us hunting down this lesbian rapist?" Wendy summarized. Shrugging, she said, "Okay, just get my good side."

"Roger," Mari replied, focusing more on her camera, saying to herself, "This is going to be so sweet…"

* * *

><p>Mysterion did not know how it started. He didn't care what caused it. All he knew was that he was going to put a stop to it in any way he could.<p>

He had watched the singing mob as it had entered the residential area of South Park and no ideas had entered his head on how to defuse it. So he had tried to listen, really listen to the words coming out of their mouths and what he had come up with was this:

There was some bitch running around trying to rape them. Another girl in a costume was breaking into their homes and forcing homoerotic experiences on them. That…didn't sound too bad to his more perverted sensibilities but regardless of what he thought, it had led to this so now it was a problem.

Being the vigilante that he was, there was only one thing, a default if you will, that he could do. He would have to corner one of the girls one at a time, maybe two if he had to, and threaten them into going back to their homes. If they ignored his warning, then he'd have to beat them up.

A simple, violent, and very senseless way to go about things but it was effective.

The mob was mostly staying together though it was quite spread out, so his default plan would have to wait. He didn't like it; the longer he waited, the greater the chance for this mob to become irrationally violent grew. Sure it was made of girls but girls were extremely frightening when angry. He wouldn't put it past a few of them to take advantage of this and take out some covert aggression on some other girl they disliked.

They'd be able to blame the rest of the mob and no one would really be able to disprove it.

Wait, what was that over there? A couple of the girls had gone a bit far ahead of the rest of the group and were almost out of sight. Most likely someone who was overeager and was trying to find the target of the mob's fury quickly. There wasn't a lot of space between them and the rest of the mob but Mysterion had to start somewhere.

He used the shadows and high vantage point to his advantage, sneaking past the mob and heading for the girls he had spotted. In little time, he was perched above them, the girls searching through bushes to find their prey.

"No one's here, Violet," the taller of the two said. "Where do you think that dyke is?"

Glancing back to where the rest of the mob was, Mysterion made the snap decision to reveal himself. He leaped from his perch, landing in from of the two girls with a warning glower.

"What the fuck?" the taller of the two, Ella Robinson Mysterion thought, exclaimed.

"Is that the lesbian rapist?" Violet Robins squealed in horror.

"Go back to your homes," Mysterion ordered them with his deep, gravelly voice. "You're involved in a situation that has the potential to backfire immensely. Return to your homes and I promise that you'll be safe."

"I don't think this is the rapist," Ella muttered. "But it could also be a flat-chested girl."

"Do I look like a girl?" Mysterion demanded, his voice rising dangerously. He pointed to the M on his chest, hoping that that would clue them in.

"I can't tell with that hood," Ella admitted. "And now that I'm looking, you really could be a flat-chested girl."

"I don't want to hurt you," Mysterion warned one last time. "Go _home_."

"So you're prepared for violence, eh?" Ella chuckled darkly as she raised her fists up. "Let's see what you got."

Well, violence had been his last resort but since Ella here was asking for it, so be it. He darted at her, fist clenched tightly. He wanted to end this quickly with a few choice blows but he soon found out that it wasn't going to be that easy for him. His attempt to land a punch on her was blocked easily with Ella's forearm but before surprise could settle on the superhero, something hit him in the side of the face with all the force of a freight train (and yes, he knew what getting hit by a freight train felt like).

His head snapped to a side but then a hit from the left and then another from the right came and suddenly he had no idea which way was up or down. Another blow to the chest and his back was making friends with the bushes that Ella and Violet had been rustling through earlier.

Ella smirked at him. "State lightweight champion," she bragged. "You're gonna have to do better than that bitch."

"Wow! You're amazing!" Violet praised. "You truly are giving MUFFDIVERs a good name!"

Lightweight? Was she talking about boxing? Mysterion shook his dazed head, trying to get his bearings back. That's right, whenever Ella wasn't with friends, at school, or doing whatever else she did, she was up at Stan's Uncle Jimbo's side business.

The boxing gym.

As if those blows to the head had knocked something loose, he recalled that Ella was one of the heaviest girls in school but that wasn't because of fat. No, it was pure muscle, trained and tone for the sole purpose of decking some other girl's block off. He'd heard rumors that she had taken on the State middleweight champion and had kicked his ass in an informal match.

Okay, he knew what he was up against now. He was so used to beating up bullies and Cartman, and don't even get him started on that threeway between himself, Rod Woods, and Bain Cynis, that going up against someone who actually knew how to fight was jarring.

"Round two," he stated at her coldly.

"Not enough?" Ella taunted.

"You know if it weren't for your breasts, you'd remind me of one of those angry feminists who burnt their bras in the sixties," Mysterion said, "and everyone knows those bitches were ugly."

"What you—? Oh, you are dead!" Ella snarled, going for the first hit.

Exactly what Mysterion wanted. To be honest, Ella wasn't ugly at all. She was actually very pretty and had he not been Mysterion, he would have tried to recommend them having round two in a very different setting. One that involved a bed, a lot of wrestling, and somebody having a sore pelvis in the morning.

However, he needed her mad and by hitting her insecurities, that was what he accomplished. When you were mad, you tended to make a lot more mistakes than if you were clear-headed.

Thus, Ella's skill suffered a bit as she dropped her defense completely in favor or swinging her fists at him without pause. He had to be careful; Ella was quite strong and he had no doubt that if she got him helpless, he was going to end up with a lot of broken bones.

Dodge, dodge, slip to the side, push her side, back up, dodge again, dodge, dodge, DUCK!

Crouched, he swept his leg in an arcing kick and kicked Ella's leg out from under her. Losing her balance, she fell to her ass. Not wanting to let her recover, he leapt at her, grabbing her shoulders and throwing his head at hers in a vicious headbutt. He pulled his head back but gave himself little time to recover so that he landed another headbutt onto Ella.

He shoved himself off her as she sat there dazed from the blows. Though he himself was dizzy, he had given enough headbutts to get used to it and that allowed him to try and copy the manbeast of a god known to the world as Chuck Norris and deliver a patented roundhouse kick to completely put the state boxing champion down.

"Ella!" Violet screamed. "Ella!"

"There're screams over there! Hurry girls!"

Mysterion took that as his cue to disappear and by the time other girls began to inspect their fallen mob mate, Mysterion was back to watching them from overhead.

He had almost pushed all the disorientation from the headbutts away but he knew that he was going to have some bruising by morning.

* * *

><p>Roxi had been thinking about this seriously. Yeah, she did have serious thoughts. What, you're surprised by that? Well fuck you too!<p>

But seriously, she was wondering whether she should attend Wendy's mob get together, continue her duties as the mysterious but heroic _Le Chat Noir_, or just stay home and hope everything blew over.

Pfft, what the hell was she thinking? The answer was obvious! She had a sworn duty to look over the town of South Park as _Le Chat Noir_ and she would be damned if she went back on that vow. To make the world a safer place and to get her Spiderman kiss, that is why she had donned the mask of the cat, venturing into the night to prove that nobody had to be afraid anymore.

And prove to Mysterion that she was not some idiot in over her head! She could be just as good at him at doing what he did!

She was finishing up putting on her costume, fixing it in places it needed to be fixed so that she was comfortable in it. Delicately, she picked up the mask that she had painstakingly worked on, i.e. forced Mari to make, and pulled it over her head. Blinded by the cloth for only a second, she felt powerful as she left behind all that was the average and incredibly awesome Roxi Thame and became the remarkable and incredibly awesome crime fighter _Le Chat Noir_.

Fuck yeah!

Sewing claws placed onto fingers and thumbs, she carefully pulled open the window to her darkened bedroom. Thanks to all the practice she was getting from slipping in and out of it, she made no noise as she climbed down the ivy-covered garden fence to the ground below.

Yeah, she had learned the hard way that jumping out the window from the second story was not as easy as it looked. How Mysterion managed to do it all the time without breaking a leg, or both of them, she did not know but she hoped that he would share his little secret with her once she proved herself to him.

Other than his secret identity, she meant. She just wanted to know how he jumped from high places without hurting himself. Right.

Okay, she was in the melting snow now; time to get to work. Earn that non-existing paycheck. So what was she going to do first? Trying to council a girl through her personal problems was out of the question. It had backfired already so perhaps she ought to stop a mugging. Start out small. Earn the people's trust. That kind of thing.

"There she is!" a shriek came from the front of her house.

_Le Chat Noir_ whirled around to spot in horror that someone had seen her come out of her own house. Oh no, they knew her secret identity now!

"She just raped Roxi!" the girl _Le Chat Noir_ identified as being Rory screamed, calling out to her fellow mob members. "Oh Lawrd, she must have scissored her to death!"

What?

That's when Wendy turned the corner, her eyes blazing in anger. "Good work Rory! Girls! She's over here!"

Faced with such recriminations, _Le Chat Noir_ did the only thing a frightened cat would do. She turned tail and ran for her life.

* * *

><p>There was a change in the mob. Mysterion noticed it as soon as it happened. Instead of being formless and all over the place, the large gathering of girls had changed direction and were heading towards downtown with malicious intent.<p>

Because they knew where they were going, it led Mysterion to only one possibility. They had found Roxi in her cheap cat getup and were chasing after her into town.

Why did such an idiot have to be causing so many problems for him?

In the distance, he heard a voice that sounded eerily like Randy Marsh's cry out, "They're heading this way! Run! Run for your lives, run!"

Cries of fellow dumbass adults soon followed.

See what he meant.

He had to outrun the mob and get his hands on Roxi, or _Le Chat Noir_ as she called herself, and get her out of sight. Tie her up, break her legs, do something that would prevent her from being the menace that she was trying not to be. He admitted, she might have good intentions, stress on the _might_, but when she was causing as much chaos as she already had, the intentions meant nil.

It was a good thing that he was good at running. He could put the cross-country team to shame with how fast he could move in a long amount of time.

Mysterion knew how fast he needed to be in order to jump from house rooftop to house rooftop and how he needed to land in order to keep up that speed. He might be tearing some shingles off but he had a town he needed to preserve and somebody could use the job replacing the shingles in this tough economy.

He had to look out for the little guy somehow.

_Le Chat Noir_ had just reached the commercial district of town by the time he had caught up with her and the head of the mob. Knowing his time on the roofs of South Park's residential district was over, Mysterion brazenly leapt out into the open air, air buffeting around him as he hurtled towards the earth. He landed on his feet but tucked his legs in as he did, going into a roll so as to relieve the force and pressure placed on his legs.

Mysterion was barely out of the maneuver and he was already dashing ahead, heading into the back alleys of town to try and cut off _Le Chat Noir_ who was racing down the main street of town. If she wanted to lose her pursuers, doing it on a wide road like that was not the way to do it.

A whistle caught his attention.

Looking away from his pursuit, he slowed down as he spotted Wolf Black gesturing towards him with a hand. In the other, he held what looked like a grappling gun and hook.

"Get yer grappling gun and hook set for all your mob-escaping needs over here!" Wolf called out, promoting his product shamelessly. "It's all yours for a price of $10.99 and that's with tax!"

"Put it on my tab," Mysterion said as he snatched the gun out of the teen salesman's hand.

"Hey! What do you—?" Wolf yelled after him. "That's $3996 bucks you still owe me asshole! Damn it, I knew I should have gotten the self-destruct feature on it!"

* * *

><p>Mysterion was long gone by now but Wolf was still not out of this game yet. Oh no, he would be in the black before this night was over and he had just the group of customers to do that. So, heading towards Main Street where he had set up a booth with various weapons and instruments of bodily harm, he began calling out, "Weapons! Got your weapons! You can't wring up a lesbian rapist without your weapons! Get your knives! Get your guns (bullets sold separately)! Get your nooses to hang that bitch! Right here at Black Market's temporary store branch!"<p>

* * *

><p>Mysterion should have been concerned about that but he had more pressing matters right now. He'd get to that shark later. Right now, he had to rescue <em>Le Chat Noir's<em> hide out of the fire.

Taking a sharp left turn, he headed towards Main Street and came to a stop at the end of the alley. Peering around the corner, he noted with satisfaction that he had gotten ahead of his target and the mob that was coming after her. Right, he had to time this just…

When _Le Chat Noir_ was close, he burst from his hiding place, snatching the surprised girl and pulling the trigger on the grappling gun, the hook shooting up into the air and landing on the rooftop of the building beside them. As soon as the line grew taunt, the two costumed individuals shot up into the air and not a moment too soon either. Someone had brought a gun to this mob and had fired it at where the two had just been, the bullet smashing into brick and blasting mortar out.

Damn, he should have invested in one of these a long time ago! No more having to climb drainage pipes for him! He shoved _Le Chat Noir_ over the edge and onto the rooftop, pulling himself over just as another shot was taken at him.

* * *

><p>"Damn it, they're up there!" Wendy exclaimed, pointed a finger at the building in question. In her other hand she held a recently purchased gun worth $29.99 at Black Market! A real steal you know!<p>

"How do we get up there?" Bebe asked.

"We'll go through the front!" Wendy declared.

"The door's locked! We can't get in!" Brianna called over to her. "There's no windows on this place either!"

"We'll have to break it down, but with what?" Wendy wondered, looking around. That's when she spotted the tree, her eyes brightening with inspiration. "Girls! Cut that tree down!"

From nearby, "Axes! Get your axes! Axes for your makeshift battle ram needs right here and at a discount price!" Wolf Black advertised.

Cash was pulled out and all members of the mob headed towards Black Market.

* * *

><p>It had all happened so quickly but <em>Le Chat Noir<em> was not going to remain on the ground…floor…roof, whatever, fuck you, and accept what was going on. She was supposed to be stopping kidnappers, not getting kidnapped!

Any verbal barbs she had to throw at her abductor turned into ash as she got a good look at just who he was.

"M-M-Mysterion?" she stuttered, eyes wide behind her mask.

The hooded, purple-clad figure regarded her coolly, staring her down with intense eyes. "Do you think this is all a game?" Mysterion demanded of her.

Instead of even attempting to sound coherent, _Le Chat Noir_ stumbled over her words, each one interrupting the one before it. As a whole, it sounded like a lot of gibberish.

"Pull yourself together," Mysterion ordered, shutting her up for a second. "Now, I'm going to ask you again. Do you think this is a game?"

"O-of course not!" she exclaimed, tripping over the first word but gain strength with each one she said after. "I'm perfectly serious about it!"

"Really?" Mysterion said, peering over the ledge of the building. "You're doing an outstanding job of it then. You have an angry mob wanting your blood and have caused more damage to the town than prevent it. You're off to a good start."

"Why thank you," _Le Chat Noir_ said, the sarcasm going right over her head. She began reconsidering what he had just said due to the look he was giving her. Had she missed something?

"I'm only going to tell you this one more time. Stop this charade and go back home," Mysterion said. "It's over your head."

Well, _Le Chat Noir_ only had one answer to that. "No."

"Care to repeat that?" Mysterion said more than asked though now she could see that he was plainly angry. Yeah, she had studied him enough to tell just when he was angry and when he was just being stoic or gruff. What? Don't look at her like that!

"You're not leaving me a lot of choice here," Mysterion warned her.

"What gives you the right, huh?" she demanded, peeved that he wasn't appreciating her efforts.

"Huh?" Mysterion blinked at her, not seeing where she was going with this.

"Why do you have a monopoly on vigilantism?" _Le Chat Noir_ pressed, outright glaring at him. She never thought that she'd be doing this to her idol, the guy of her dreams. "What makes you better than me? I'm just trying to help you asshole!"

"Is this what you call helping?" Mysterion demanded, swinging a hand out to gesture towards the torch lit streets below.

Moving over to get a look, _Le Chat Noir's_ eyes widened as she saw that the mob had cut down a tree. "Raise your heads, hold this log, here we are we're fifty strong, and fifty white girls can't be wrong! Let's get the bitch!" they sang and began using the chopped down tree to ram the front door.

"Kill the bitch!" Wham! "Kill the bitch!" Wham!

Say, they sounded like they were doing a musical number down there. She got all dressed up to miss that? Wow, she was missing out.

"This is not helping," Mysterion stated, staring her down. "This is the complete opposite of helping. You got the whole town afraid of this mob down there and the mob itself is angry at you because it thinks you're trying to hurt them. How does that mean that you are helping? Do tell me."

"Stop being such a dick! I'm new to this!" _Le Chat Noir_ protested, stepping away from the edge and further onto the roof. She wrapped her arms around her torso, trying to comfort herself.

"That is not an excuse," Mysterion said. "Even when Cart—I mean, the Coon was starting off, he knew better than to start such a frenzy. He may also have seen things that weren't really there but he was so incompetent that no one paid him any attention. However, he was only trying his hand at this because he wanted people to idolize him, call him a hero without him doing much to _earn_ it. That's where you and him are the same. You want people to respect what you do without putting too much effort into it. You do it for selfish reasons."

"Don't you do it for the attention?" _Le Chat Noir_ asked, refusing to believe those words.

"I don't care about the attention. I just care about making this town a better place," Mysterion stated. "I do not care if I'm rewarded for it or not. In dark times, people need to have something they can believe in. If they chose me to be that symbol, so be it. If no one else can, or will, do it, then I'll take up the mantle they wish to put on my shoulders."

"And that's just another thing I hate about you Mysterion!"

The two heroes tore their attentions from one another and towards a third party whom neither of the two had noticed before now.

He stood proud if not tall in his gray and light blue clothing and silver boots, his silver gloved hands placed on his hips and bared arms held up akimbo. A dark gray cape rested on his shoulders and the silver helmet that looked like it was made of aluminum foil framed a sneering face that gazed at them haughtily.

"Chaos…what are you doing here?" Mysterion exclaimed darkly. "I thought that you retired."

"Professor Chaos never retires!" the dubbed Professor Chaos declared. "You may think you defeated him but really, he just goes underground, waiting for his moment to strike back."

_Le Chat Noir_ could feel it, she could feel it rushing through body, filling her with excitement and anticipation. By all that was holy, here was the supervillain she was looking for! Well, he wasn't the one from the construction site but telling by how Mysterion was glaring at this Professor Chaos, he would do quite nicely.

If she could take this baddie head on and defeat him, Mysterion would have to accept her! It's not like just anybody could take on a supervillain.

"What are you planning this time? Trying to blow up another hospital?" Mysterion probed.

"No! Nothing like that!" Professor Chaos proclaimed. "No, what I have planned this time is infinitely more times horrible than that!"

Oh, he was speaking her language here! _Le Chat Noir_ was nearly drooling as this baddie continued to build himself up.

"What could possibly be worse than blowing up a hospital?" Mysterion's eyes were narrowed and Chaos, for a second, seemed to hesitate before that look. However, he steeled his nerve and stood up straighter, squaring his shoulders.

Here was the big reveal!

"I plan…on studying!" Professor Chaos announced, cackling for all the world to hear.

_Le Chat Noir's_ shoulders slumped. Study? He had been getting her hopes up for nothing!

"That's…not really horrible," Mysterion pointed out.

"Oh but it is," Professor Chaos grinned at them. "You see, I am studying what is called a Def Con 50."

Def Con 50? What was that?

Mysterion seemed to know what that was because he pulled back, staring at Professor Chaos in horror. "Def Con 50? Why would you want to study that?"

"Because it sends everybody into panic!" Professor Chaos cackled. "I saw it happen myself and I knew that if I could harness its power, there would be nothing on Earth that could oppose me. Not even you, the great and mysterious Mysterion could ever hope to withstand such a thing!"

"You're insane, Chaos," Mysterion retorted. "No one can harness the power of fifty women on their periods at the same time in the same place. Not even the laws of physics stands a chance!"

Okay, _Le Chat Noir_ was completely lost. It was like these guys were having a conversation only they knew about. In fact, they were ignoring her now, weren't they? Well, she'd just rudely insert herself into it.

"Okay, crazy guy, I don't know what this Def Con 50 is but where would you even find one of those?" she demanded.

Instead of using the strong, evilly voice he had been talking with, his voice went up about an octave as he pointed towards the ledge behind them, "Why that group of girls behind you. They're awfully pissed down there so you can't miss them."

Huh, kinda sounded like Butters there. Probably was just her imagination.

Mysterion peered back at the mob that was still crying out "Kill the bitch!" and using their tree against the unyielding front doors below. "Actually Chaos, that is not a Def Con 50. Those girls down there are pissed off at this, excuse my language for a second, bitch right here."

"A likely story," Professor Chaos sneered at them, returning to using his evil voice again. "I know your games Mysterion and I'll not fall for them this time! Fool me ten times, shame on you. Shame me eleven times, shame on me."

"Seriously Chaos, I am not playing games with you," Mysterion said coolly.

There was a loud bang below and Mysterion and _Le Chat Noir_ glanced down at the street. The mob had broken through the doors and was charging into the building. It was only a matter of time now before they reached the roof and them.

"Damn it, we're out of time!" Mysterion swore.

"Planning to flee Mysterion?" Professor Chaos taunted though he himself was getting a bit nervous.

"I plan to live through this Chaos," Mysterion snapped at the villain.

"Hey! Why aren't we beating him up?" _Le Chat Noir_ interrupted, gesturing towards the supervillain. "Isn't that what we're supposed to be doing?"

"If you want to beat him up, fine," Mysterion snapped. "Be my guest."

Alright! Mysterion was giving her his vote of confidence! All she had to do now was beat up Professor Chaos and she'd be a full-fledge hero!

"You're not going anywhere Mysterion!" Professor Chaos declared as he pulled out what looked like a rubix cube. "Not unless you want my little bomb here to blow us all sky high!"

Mysterion barely gave the villain a glance as he threw an arm out, a ninja star cutting through the air to hit the cube out of Professor Chaos' hand. As the cube clattered on the roof, Professor Chaos clutched at his wrist, eyeing the ninja star embedded in his bomb like it was a live snake.

"H-h-hey! You almost hit me with that!" Professor Chaos complained.

"This is not a game, Chaos," Mysterion stated as he glared at the other with an eye. Before he could say anything else, a door that served as an entrance to the roof swung open and the mob of girls began to spill out of it, shouting out their chant for all to hear.

"Kill the bitch! Kill the bitch! Kill the—"

"There she is!" Wendy exclaimed, pointing straight at _Le Chat Noir_. "We've got her now girls!"

A bloodthirsty cheer roared from behind her.

And now _Le Chat Noir_ felt all her bravado leave her as she threw herself at Mysterion, grabbing hold of his arm as tightly as she could. "Don't let them hurt me!" she cried out fearfully, shying away from the looks of hatred that were directed at her.

"Damn it," Mysterion swore again. "Let go of my arm, you're holding me back."

"Hand her over!" Wendy ordered. "This is girl business!"

"Yeah!" the mob behind her agreed.

"Oh, shit's about to go down now," Professor Chaos nearly squealed as he watched the standoff.

Mysterion glanced at her, his eyes quickly returning to the mob. "I will not do that."

"So you want to share what we're gonna do to her? Fine," Wendy said. "Just know you're trying to protect a rapist! She already got Roxi!"

Huh? What? But…but she was Roxi! How could she rape herself?

"She raped no one," Mysterion replied. "She's just an idiot and you're taking things out of context."

"Let's just string'um both up!" Bebe shouted, holding up a Black Market purchased noose.

This was getting to be way too much for _Le Chat Noir_ and she squeezed her eyes shut, fervently wishing that this was not happening. If anyone was out there, please get her out of this one and she swore that she would suck your dick or whatever! All she ever wanted was a Spiderman kiss! Was that so much to ask for? And why did she smell a hint of mint in the air?

Wait, mint? There was more to it. It was like it was half mint, half berry—

"Shablagoo!"

—with a tasty yet satisfying crunch.

"It's about time," Mysterion said gratefully as he looked up into the air. _Le Chat Noir_ followed his gaze and her mouth fell open as she saw someone floating up in the air, looking down upon them triumphant smile.

Half of him was a human but the other half was berry and mint woven together to make the other half. Blond hair wisped in the air as a minty gale blew all around him.

"I was wondering when you were going to get here, Mintberry Crunch," Mysterion greeted.

"Oh no! Not Mintberry Crunch! The crimefighter that's half mint and half berry with a tasty yet satisfying crunch!" Professor Chaos exclaimed.

"Always in the nick of time for a friend, Mysterion!" Mintberry Crunch greeted back cheerfully, ignoring the villain along with everyone else.

"What the hell is that?" a girl cried out.

"Return to your homes, female denizens!" Mintberry Crunch commanded. "This night is a school night and I bet quite a few of you have quizzes and tests in the morning! You need to rest up and be ready for anything the vile teachers of South Park High are cooking up for you!"

To _Le Chat Noir's_ amazement, many of the girls were agreeing with that statement.

"Hey, he's right, I do have a test! I'm supposed to be cramming for it tonight!"

"Oh mah gawd! I completely forgot about it too!"

"I have to read chapter seven tonight! I haven't even gotten started on it!"

"No girls! He's trying to distract you!" Wendy blared, trying refocus her mob. "And think for a second! It's the week after Spring Break! What teacher has a test after that?"

"The math teacher!"

"But what studying will you get done if this rapist is still on the loose?" Wendy pressed. "I bet getting raped will definitely screw up your study habits!"

The mob was coming back around to Wendy's side and Mintberry Crunch sighed. "I had hoped to talk you all down but you are leaving me no choice! Prepare for the mint! The berry! And the satisfying cr-runch!"

The wind began to blow, mint leaves flapping around in the gusts. But before the superhero could put then to use, some of the mint leaves drew too close to a torch and caught on fire.

What should have been an irritating minty blast was now starting to become worse and worse as more and more mint leaves began catching on fire, the flames spreading further and further.

"Oops," Mintberry Crunch said just as all hell broke loose.

* * *

><p>From a distance all was calm but that silence was soon interrupted by a small mushroom cloud that centered in the middle of the small town of South Park.<p>

If you were to ask anybody about it, all they could tell you was that it smelled minty. That and the force was as powerful as a satisfying crunch.

* * *

><p>"You kinda over did it," Mysterion commented, soot staining the portions of his face not hidden by his hood or mask. "Not that I'm complaining or anything."<p>

"I feel guilty about the building," Mintberry Crunch said uneasily, scratching the back of the human portion of his neck.

"Don't worry about it, I think it was some kind of storage place," Mysterion assured him. "There was nothing a value in there, I think."

"Well, if you say so," Mintberry Crunch said. Changing the topic, he asked, "So what was Professor Chaos up to this time? Spreading more destruction and doom?"

"Trying to," Mysterion said. "He wanted to harness the power of a Def Con 50 but that plan was doomed from the start."

"He's certainly getting bolder," Mintberry Crunch pointed out. "You might want to keep an eye on him."

"I'm too busy keeping an eye on this idiot," Mysterion stated as he nudged the unconscious body of _Le Chat Noir_ with his foot.

"I was wondering about her, who is she?" Mintberry Crunch asked, looking at the cat-themed girl with interest.

"Another wannabe vigilante," Mysterion answered gruffly. "Hopefully, tonight's events will have her reconsider her career choices."

"Well, if you have no need for me, I need to get back to freeing my home planet Kokajun," Mintberry Crunch said.

"Wait a second," Mysterion said. "I…thank you. You didn't have to come."

"What are the Coon and Friends for?" Mintberry Crunch chuckled. "Whenever you have need for me, you just have to call! Shablagoo!"

And he was gone, a few berries and crunchy cereal nuggets bouncing where he had left.

* * *

><p>As dawn broke over the town, Wolf Black was whistling a lively tune as he headed towards his downtown warehouse where all his stock and inventory was stored. He had made a killing last night and once no one came to his booth, he had packed up and left before the sure-to-be epic conclusion of last night's events occurred.<p>

Why should he care what would happen? He had money to count, damn it! All the sales for today and for supplying the mob had to be added up and weighed against what he had from other sales and day-to-day business. He liked to get his accounting done as soon as possible but because it got late, he stopped himself from going over what inventory he had left, sure that he could do that first thing in the morning.

He needed his beauty rest because you can't conduct business when you were tired as shit.

As he got closer to his warehouse, he pulled out a ring of keys and twirled them on one finger, changing his whistling to an even livelier tune. Yep, life was great, his bank accounts were great, everything was great. Truly, there was nothing in this world that could put him down.

Then he arrived at his warehouse where only the smoking remains laid. Burnt mint leaves littered the ground and as he rushed onto the property, climbing over an abandoned tree that had somehow been left in the doorway, he saw that everything that had been kept here was completely destroyed. Anything that wasn't was completely worthless and no one sane would consider buying it.

In a perfect mimic of Darth Vader, Wolf threw his head back and cried out, "NOOOOOooooooo!"


	7. In Which There Are Memory Lapses

Author's Note: As you'll find out, last chapter did have a purpose other than to put some South Park chaos into this story. However, a good amount covered here are the subplots but the main plot itself progresses a bit. In fact there is a big clue in here of what's going to take up the majority of the story. Anyone care to figure out what that clue is? Enjoy.

Disclaimer: I do not own South Park.

Warning: language

In Which There Are Memory Lapses

Mayor McDaniels stared at the destruction that had literally occurred over night.

Now, stuff like half the town being demolished was something she had encountered more than once before. How many times had she and the townsfolk have to rebuild this Godforsaken place? Seventy times? Eighty? However many it was, she had never really faced any backlash for it.

But when one unimportant building ends up destroyed after a reported mob or whatever it was the men in town were calling it, suddenly she finds herself up to her tits in complaints to do something about it. It was just one building! And she didn't even know what it was for!

Ultimately, what was on everyone's minds was how could something like this happen in the first place? Where're the police, eh? It was their job to serve and protect them! But when she pointed out that the majority of their law enforcement came from the Park County Police Department, she was scoffed at her and a more local station was called for.

Then she reminded them of Officer Barbrady.

She would have thought that would have ended the argument. If anything, it would have directed the town's anger towards the incompetent officer. Well, that didn't quite happen.

It was like these redneck hicks thought she was responsible for everything that happened in this town! No one wanted to accept the fact that they had set themselves up for this kind of calamity and so they had to assign all blame on her!

Well, at least she had been given the authority to hire on more police officers. The demand for greater public safety might allow her to start passing some more ordinances and extending her own political power…

That could come later. Right now she needed to find some able bodied men, preferably hot because she had an idea of what the new police uniform could be. Tighter fits and shorter shorts. Ooh, she wouldn't mind a few more hot guys around here in such skimpy outfits…

"Umm, Mayor? Didn't you get that application yesterday?" one of her aides asked her. "You know, that one stupid guy who claimed he wasn't Mormon?"

"I know who you're talking about," she snapped at the idiot. God! Who did they take her for, a moron? She hadn't forgotten about their recently arrived retard/junkie. Really. She hadn't. "Uhh…where did I put that form again?" she asked out loud.

"I think you used it for toilet paper, Mayor," the aide answered her.

"Did anyone get his phone number?" she demanded, getting frantic.

"The sheet with that information was the first one you used," the aide told her.

"Then where do we find the idiot?" she exclaimed exasperated, not caring who heard her.

"I do believe he mentioned staying at his girlfriend's house at some point," the aide said.

"Alright, find out the name of the girl then look up the address," McDaniels ordered, relieved that she hadn't completely fucked up. "I'll inform him personally that a…position has opened up recently."

She didn't have to mention that anyone with a working brain would never agree to work in this town so they had to wait for a perfect idiot to land in their laps first. Lucky for them one already had.

* * *

><p>Marcus was not presentable as he stumbled his way out of the basement, heading for the front door. He had intended to go to the kitchen and get some coffee to wake him up but then someone had begun ringing the doorbell incessantly.<p>

Hoping that the rest of the household wasn't up, Marcus decided to answer it.

So there he was in nothing but a wifebeater and a pair of boxers, staring blearily at Mayor McDaniels who was giving him an appraising one over. She must have liked what she saw or something because she made no comment about his dress wear.

Instead, she took him by a hand and began shaking it, congratulating him on his new job.

"Huh?" he blinked, his mind not completely caught up with what was going on.

"Speechless, eh?" the Mayor said. "I'm not surprised. It's not every day that someone gets hired onto South Park's most _illustrious_ police force. Why, we have applicants coming out the wazoo and out of all of them, I decided that you were indeed the best fit for the job. Congratulations young man!"

"I'm…I'm hired?" Marcus asked, not really believing his ears. He had just applied yesterday and to get word so soon…

"We can discuss things like your pay, work hours, and civil liberties later," Mayor McDaniels continued hurriedly. "I want you to show up at our station in town to report for duty or whatever it is cops call it in an hour. I'll take care of arrangements at the station and by lunch you should be out and about patrolling our beloved town. So get dress and eat some breakfast son because today is a big day for you!"

"A-absolutely!" Marcus stuttered, reality finally dawning on him. "Right away Mayor!"

"That's just what I wanted to hear!" the mayor said, giving him another once over. "We could use some more…fresh me—blood out there. Barbrady can only do so much and he's not getting much younger. Yeah, I believe this really is the best thing for this town."

"I'll be at the station! In an hour right?" Marcus stated while trying to make sure he had everything right. An hour wasn't a whole lot of time. He needed to clean up, get dressed, eat something wholesome, oral hygiene, the works! So much to do in so little time!

He needed to go in there dressed to impress!

"That's right," the mayor confirmed. "Don't be late!"

Marcus couldn't help but stand there in his underwear, grinning manically as the government official left. Finally closing the door, he couldn't hold it in anymore. He had to let out a whoop, yelling his jubilation. He had a job! He was employed! Oh everything was coming together! Soon he wouldn't have to live off of his girlfriend's parents and get a place of his own.

He was becoming a productive member of society and it felt great.

"Do you think you could keep it down?"

Marcus froze and slowly turned towards the kitchen where he could plainly see his girlfriend's father at the dining table, reading the paper with a cup of coffee beside him. The elder man peered over the edge of the newspaper, lightly glinting off his glasses for a second as his brown eyes focused on the young man.

"Uh…sorry," Marcus apologized, scratching the back of his head. "When…when did you get there?"

"Before you left the basement," Mr. Cynis answered calmly.

"But I didn't see you!" Marcus exclaimed. Before he could add anything to that, his mind stopped him, the memory of him coming out of the basement and heading for the kitchen before he had been stopped by the doorbell. The image of the kitchen counter shifted to a side and there indeed was Mr. Cynis at the table, taking a sip of coffee without looking up from his paper.

Whoa.

But he had been so sure that no one else had been up…

"Everybody has that reaction," Mr. Cynis commented, looking back down to the sports section. "I've gotten used to it."

Marcus tried to force something, _anything_, out of his mouth but any words he could come up with were mere ashes on the tip of his tongue. How could someone as large as this man be so invisible? It didn't make any sense!

Footsteps stomped down the stairs and Bain appeared, his hair mussed crazily in that bedhead style and his eyes half-lidded with both sleep and irritation. For some reason, Marcus had the urge to straighten up under the intense gaze his girlfriend's brother was shooting at him.

"Lonely?" Bain snarked. "If you're trying to wake up the household, you've succeeded."

"Oh. Sorry?" Marcus found himself apologizing for the second time that morning.

"Do it again and that's what you will be," Bain muttered as he left his spot on the last step, stomping past the older man towards the kitchen.

"Well…I just got a job!" Marcus blurting out, grinning dumbly at the teen. "The mayor just hired me as a cop!"

"Wonderful," Bain grunted.

Huh. Maybe he wasn't a morning person?

"Perhaps you should start dressing like an officer of the law," Mr. Cynis suggested, not looking away from his paper. "I don't think they take underdressed officers lightly."

Oh crap! He had to get ready! He rushed back down to the basement to grab the first decent thing he could. A towel would have to be included in that because he still needed a shower and…and there was just so much to do!

* * *

><p>Unbeknownst to Marcus, as soon as he closed the door, Mayor McDaniels sighed as she said to her aide, "I think that went well, don't you?"<p>

"Certainly," her aide agreed. "You really sounded sincere."

"I'm just lucky he's a complete dumbass," McDaniels scoffed. "No one in their right mind would want to work here. Applications out the wazoo my ass!"

"I believe that statement is redundant," her aide pointed out.

"I don't pay you to point out grammatical mistakes asswipe," McDaniels snapped as she got into the car. "Get us to the station immediately. I need to break the news to Barbrady and then we'll have to find something that fits what's his face."

"You don't think Officer Barbrady's going to take the news well?" her aide asked.

"No, I think he's going to take it too well," McDaniels replied. "The man has no subordinates and remember the last time he had one? This is going to put him on a power trip, mark my words."

* * *

><p>The Cynis household wasn't the only one that had visitors so early in the morning. The Broflovskis were to share in this dubious honor as Kyle found himself singled out with his mother cooking breakfast, his father getting ready in his room, and Ike using the shower when the doorbell rang.<p>

That and he was the closest to the door. When his mother called out for someone to answer it, Kyle sighed and did as was requested.

Let him say now that being greeted with a pair of natural red eyes was never a mundane occurrence.

"Good Morning Kyle," Damien, the Antichrist himself in all his physical glory, chirped at him. Kyle found himself squirming under the intensity of those red eyes that only stood out from the nearly pale as white skin that surrounded them.

Damien's "you'll get used to them" rang through his mind for a sec before Kyle got a hold of himself to actually behave like a normal human being.

"Hey Damien," he said, giving a strained smile. "What are you doing up so early? I thought you weren't feeling well."

"I'm doing better," Damien said, flashing him a hungry grin that was full of teeth. "There's nothing like staying in this sin-infested town that can't replenish me. The only thing that compares is home."

"But why are you here?" Kyle asked.

"I wanted to make sure you were all right," Damien replied innocently. "There was quite a disturbance last night; a Def Con 50 if I'm told right. I was up all night wondering if you were in trouble."

"I heard about that," Kyle said mildly. "Well, as you can see, I'm perfectly fine. You can go back home now or go to school if you want."

"Aren't you going to invite me in?" Damien asked, his foot scooting into the doorway so that it would prevent the door from being closed. "And what is that smell? It smells like someone's cooking a fury in hot boiling oil."

"My mom's cooking breakfast," Kyle deadpanned.

"Oh right. There's something about kosher that reminds me of oil," Damien said, giving Kyle a leer at that last part.

"Stop looking at me like you want to jump me," Kyle said.

"Aw but I want to jump you," Damien whined. "I never hear you complain about it afterwards…"

"Kyle? Is that you? Who's at the door?" his mother called from the kitchen.

"Oh…it's…" Kyle trailed off, unable to come up with a convincing lie. He could lie to his friend's faces all he wanted but when it came to his mother, he sucked at it. "It's just Damien," he called back knowing that was the last thing he should say.

"Why don't you invite him in? He can have a bite to eat," his mother said.

Kyle sighed and gave a warning look to Damien who looked completely smug. "Don't try anything," Kyle ordered as he opened the door wider, moving to a side as the black-clad hellspawn accepted the invitation.

Stretching an arm out, Damien snaked his fingers under Kyle's ushanka and into the covered red locks which he tousled. "I wouldn't dream of it," Damien said as he withdrew his hand, leaving Kyle's hat askew atop his head.

"Asshole," Kyle muttered as he shut the front door and fixed his hat.

"You love it," Damien threw him a wink over his shoulder just as he entered the kitchen.

Perversions aside, you would think that Damien was this dark, pure evil, and all around awful guy and you would be right but even Damien knew when it was a good time to be a bastard and when to essentially do a one-eighty and become the most charming person you could ever meet.

So when he stepped foot in the domain of Sheila Broflovski, he was anything but evil incarnate. "That smells great Mrs. Broflovski! I hope you won't mind having one more this morning," he greeted and praised the older woman. Somehow, Damien was keeping his high pitched voice under control so that it didn't sound like he could shatter glass just by raising it.

Yes, the Antichrist has charisma. Can you read the sarcasm in there? What, you thought the guy who was ultimately going to bring about the end of the world would be unlikeable?

No, he only behaved "normally" in front of those who knew the truth already. Those who didn't were suckers for his act.

"Why thank you Damien!" Sheila preened under the praise. "There's plenty to go around so help yourself."

His mom, the most hospitable person on Earth.

Kyle was sighing again as he trekked into the dining room and took a seat at the table, a wall blocking the sight of him from the kitchen. His stomach rumbled but he wasn't about to get up yet. It was just too early in the morning to have this much stress.

A shiver went down his spine as he felt something wet press against his cheek and the redheaded Jew cracked open an eye just in time to see Damien's abnormally long and forked tongue slither back into his mouth.

"Still so tasty," Damien said, smacking his lips. "I can never get enough of you."

"Mom's in the next room," Kyle stated.

"She's busy reprimanding Cerberus," Damien said dismissively. "The mutt's trying to beg through the window."

"Are you sure it was Cerberus? It might have been Dip or Marley," Kyle pointed out.

"You might be right on that one. I could never remember which head was which," Damien said thoughtfully. "Kitchen window wasn't large enough to see either. Only saw an eye."

"Mom will feed him…them what's ever left," Kyle said, breathing in the smell of Matzeh brie as it wafted into his nostrils. Umm, nothing like matzo fried with eggs to get you ready for the day ahead. "Cuts down on the costs of using the garbage disposer in the sink."

"Your family is spoiling him," Damien stated. When Kyle peeked over at the Antichrist, he spotted the signs that the black-haired boy…teen…demonic tyrant, whatever, fuck you, was only teasing. It looked like Damien was in a good mood today.

"There's no beef in this," Damien pouted as he stirred a fork into the scrambled mess of matzo and eggs.

"It was originally made for Passover; of course there's no meat in it," Kyle said.

"Are you trying to turn me into a vegetarian?" Damien remarked.

"No and before you ask, we don't have any human flesh laying around. Cannibalism is frowned on here if it isn't illegal," Kyle said dully as if he had said that many times before.

"But Kyle, there's nothing more satisfying that waking up in the morning and biting into someone's refrigerated, severed leg," Damien protested.

"You're about to go descriptive. Don't go descriptive," Kyle ordered. "You'll make me lose my appetite."

"You're no fun," Damien sulked.

* * *

><p>Stan was feeling pretty good that morning. Even though his father got in late that night and forced them all to turn off the electricity because he was overreacting again, Stan's mood was not brought down when he got up that morning.<p>

Yesterday had been great to him. He went out with his girlfriend and though they had to cut it short because Kyra needed to be somewhere, he really felt like they were connecting. For a bit, he felt like that maybe he had alienated her because she seemed uncomfortable at times but after telling him that he was her first boyfriend, he figured he knew what was going on.

He was her first time and as she explained it, she was looking to him to show her how to do this. Made his ego swell a bit because while Kyra was the expert in gaming, he was the one with the expertise in dating. She would be looking up to him this time!

It felt oddly empowering and he didn't know why.

Well, Stan wouldn't let that confuse him. He was going to ride this high like no one had ever rode it before. He pushed open the doors to the school, entering the building with a swagger in his step and the knowledge that nothing could bring him down.

"Hey Stan!" a voice shouted at him.

Stan perked up from his thoughts, automatically searching for the one who called him. He hadn't known Kyra to shout outside of when she had her game face on but he figured that he was rubbing off on her.

What he didn't expect was a girl with long black hair and red streaks weaved into it to bound at him in a tight shirt that really showed off her assets. Her very bouncing assets…

They were so bouncy…and plump…

And then arms were wrapping around his head and his face was making friends with these assets. Wow, they were so warm and firm and—

He jerked himself away, mentally slapping himself and screaming in his head that he had a girlfriend. A girlfriend!

"Stan, it's been so long!" the girl exclaimed, giving him a broad smile that showed off her dimples. "We haven't talked in forever and…"

Stan was starting to tune her out but it was for a good reason. He did not remember who this girl was though he thought her boobs were familiar. And why was he starting to sound like Kenny?

"Hey Stan? Are you listening?" the girl with the red streaks in her hair asked him. Wow, her eyes were so blue, so much so that they were almost purple. He was sure he would have remembered somebody with that kind of feature.

But why was he drawing up a blank?

Damn it, he sucked at remembering girls' names!

"Uh, yeah, I was," he said quickly, doing his best not to grimace. "It's nice to talk to you too…um…I'm sorry if this sounds douchy but who are you again?"

The girl seemed to freeze in place for a second, like someone had scratched a record on a DJ's table. Her grip on her purse tightened for a moment but then she relaxed and gave him this very charming and, if he dared say it, sultry smile.

"Don't you remember? We went out for a bit. We were a couple," she told him. "You have to remember that."

Hmm, very specific but nothing was coming to mind. It wasn't that Stan didn't remember all the girls he went out with. There were maybe four or five of them in the past eighteen years of his life. It's just Wendy was the one he had the most memories with and Kyra was the girl he was currently dating. When he put his heart into something, he really did it and his memory seemed to follow that example.

"Yeah, a little," he said, hoping to buy himself a little time.

"It's me, Gwendolyn or as I told you to call me, Ashley," Gwendolyn said.

"Where'd you get Ashley from?" Stan asked.

"My middle name," Gwendolyn or Ashley said almost exasperated. "I know I told you that before!"

He was still drawing a blank.

It was at that time that Kyle was passing by, a smirking Damien at the Jew's side with an arm over the redhead's shoulders. Kyle spotted his dilemma and with a look of suffering, he leaned close to the school's prized quarterback and hissed, "Wendy 2."

Just that name, Wendy 2, brought back so many memories.

"Oh! I remember! You're Wendy 2!" he exclaimed, proud that he recalled the girl.

"For the love of God, my name's not Wendy fucking 2!" Wendy 2 practically snarled.

"Wow, it's been so long! How're you doing?" Stan asked her, oblivious to the girl's ire.

"I was doing great until you said that fucking name," Wendy 2 grumbled. However, whatever bad vibes she was emitting stopped as she slapped on a happy face and said, "I've been doing fine Stan though I do miss the time we dated."

"Uh huh," Stan murmured, not really wanting to go there anymore. He wanted to check in with his friends and then see if he couldn't find Kyra so he could tell her last…afternoon he guessed had been great and that maybe they should do it again.

"I was thinking about how great it would be if we hooked up again," Wendy 2 pressed as she leaned closer to him, her eyes darkening with something Stan could almost recognize.

However, her words did the trick and he snapped back to the present. "What? But I already have a girlfriend!" he jabbered.

"You do?" Wendy 2's frowned at that but she didn't get lost in her thoughts like Stan found himself doing nowadays. Something he picked up from his father, he swore. "But why not give us another chance?" she wheedled, bringing attention towards her buxom breasts. "We had fun last time, didn't we?"

This was really getting awkward.

"Sorry but I can't," he stated as he pushed her away gently. "I got a girl and I'm happy with her. I…I really don't think this is good idea."

"C'mon Stan," Wendy 2 insisted.

"Can't, gotta go," he said quickly as he then unceremoniously ditched her, walking away as fast as he could. He did not want to get involved in such a stressful situation.

* * *

><p>Gwendolyn watched as Stan made his quick getaway, the girl wracking her mind over how things hadn't worked out. She had been planning this meet-up for nearly a week! Why hadn't it worked?<p>

At that point, Ella walked by and snagged the purse that Gwendolyn had been holding but before the other girl could get far, Gwendolyn snapped out of her stupor and barked, "Don't bother, he's already gone."

Ella stopped in her tracks and looked back at the MUFFDIVER leader quizzically. "Plan fell through before I got here?"

Ah yes, the plan. Ella had been supposed to snatch up her purse so then she could persuade Stan into trying to get it back for her. Things like adverted tragedy brought all sorts of people together and Gwendolyn had planned on using it to bring her and Stan together again.

"When did he get a girlfriend?" Gwendolyn snarled instead, her hands balling into fists. The mere pressure she was exerting was already turning her knuckles white.

"I don't know," Ella shrugged as she returned the purse, a large bruise swelling on her forehead. Gwendolyn had asked about it before but Ella had refused to spill. Something involving a masked, hooded idiot who might have been a flat-chested girl. "I think it just happened one day."

"We'll see about that," Gwendolyn grounded out. "This is not over, not by a long shot!"

* * *

><p>Roxi felt like she was going to lose it. Everybody, or at least every girl, was coming up to her, saying it was going to be all right and that they would help her through the ordeal she was going through.<p>

For the life of her, Roxi couldn't figure out what the hell they were talking about.

"I'm sorry that you were violated last night," Bebe Stevens told her sincerely.

"It must have been so awful! It's amazing that you came to school today!" Violet Robins exclaimed as she hovered around her.

"We failed you Roxi. Can you ever forgive me?" Wendy asked sorrowfully.

"This is just too funny for words," Mari chortled as she recorded every moment on a camera that Roxi was sure shouldn't have been brought to school.

"I hope you can recover from the trauma," Brittany Love tried to comfort her. "It must have been so horrible."

"Girls? I don't know what you're talking about," Roxi managed to interject.

Silence all around her. And then…

"It must have been so horrible that you repressed the experience!" Wendy exclaimed. "Oh Roxi, you poor, poor thing!"

"Don't worry Roxi, we'll get the bitch back," Bebe declared.

"Just so you know, us LESBIANs will be here for your every need," Brittany promised.

"I don't know what you're talking about but the last thing we need around here is another lesbian," Wendy glared at Brittany. "Hasn't Roxi been through enough?"

"Hey, it's…that was badly worded but I didn't mean any harm!" Brittany argued.

"You should know better than to invite her to some lesbian orgy especially after what that raping, lesbian prowler did to her!" Bebe scolded.

Huh. A raping, lesbian prowler? Why did that sound familiar? Let's see…oh yeah, Wendy had that get together last night! And she had called the night before to tell her about some lesbian rapist that had tried to break…into…her…room…

Oh. Oh for the love of—!

They were talking about her! _Le Chat Noir_, she meant! They were talking about _Le Chat Noir_ raping her. But wasn't she _Le Chat Noir_? How could she rape herself? Oh, now her head was hurting!

"Fucking gold," Mari muttered, ignored by everyone else there as she continued to film.

"Are you really okay Roxi? You don't look good," Wendy asked, the girl the very incarnation of worry and concern.

"Can I get some space?" Roxi asked as she rubbed her thumb and pointer finger against her forehead. "It's kinda getting hard to breath around here."

"You heard her girls! Back off!" Bebe announced.

Okay, that was better. The sense of claustrophobia she was getting from too many people hogging up her personal space was easing.

"How are you Roxi? Really?" Wendy pressed. "I swear, we're going to make that bitch pay for what she did to you."

Really, right now all Roxi wanted to do was scream that she—er, _Le Chat Noir_ was _not_ a Goddamn lesbian rapist! She really needed some alone time and—hold on, was Mari recording all this? That bitch! Why wasn't her faithful assistant in her fight on crime helping her out?

"I need some alone time," she said as she nearly shoved her way out from the group of concerned girls, snatching Mari along the way. "Here, I'll take Mari just in case! See you guys later, gotta go, bye!"

Despite the distance she had put between her and the group, she still overheard Violet Robins saying, "Wow, she must really be suffering."

For the love of Christ.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Mari demanded as she struggled to get out of the stressed girl's iron grip. "I was getting so much footage back there!"

"Mari, you gotta tell me what those guys are smoking!" Roxi cried out. "How did they come to think I'm some kind of lesbian prowler trying to rape them? I'm trying to _help_ them!"

"I taped everything that happened last night," Mari shrugged. "I already uploaded some of it onto Youtube. I got, like, ten thousands hits already on the song."

"They sang a song?" Roxi wailed, appalled that she had missed taking part in it.

"Yeah, there's a bunch of trolls commenting that it's a ripoff of a Disney movie," Mari rolled her eyes. "What kind of loser still watches Disney movies when they're not eight?"

Roxi looked away, not saying a word.

"But that wasn't the best part," Mari continued. "I also got Stan Marsh's dad running up and down the streets. He was shouting about something called Def Con 50. I didn't get what the hell he was talking about."

"Mysterion said something about that," Roxi mentioned. "He and—oh, I gotta tell you this! I found myself a supervillian last night!"

"You what?" Mari deadpanned.

Completely forgetting about her previous misery, the pink highlighted brunette began rambling. "He showed up out of nowhere and Mysterion knew him! The way they talked, it was like they were archnemesises!

"I think that's archnemeses," Mari corrected.

"Whatever," Roxi said. "It's like my prayers have been answered! Once I defeat this villain, Mysterion will have to take me seriously as a superhero! He just has to!"

And any meaningful conversation that could have occurred had gone down the drain by now. Sighing, Mari asked, "So what does this 'supervillian' call himself?"

"I think it was Professor Chaos," Roxi said slowly, her browed creased as she used her brain for once.

"D-did you say Professor Chaos?"

Both girls turned away from each other to see Butters standing only a few feet away from them, shuffling on his feet nervously.

"Yeah. You know him?" Roxi asked, eyeing the nervous blond up and down.

"Why, he's the bringer of destruction and doom!" Butters proclaimed. "The scourge of this town who makes lives of everyone he meets a living heck! A heck I tells ya!"

Roxi almost squealed in delight. This was too good to be true!

"How come I haven't heard of him?" Mari cut in, looking at Butters skeptically.

"Because to say his name is to summon him here," Butters said solemnly. "It's one of those unspoken secrets if you know what I mean. The people who have suffered because of him, makes me want to go home and hide under my bed if you know what I mean."

"Not really," Mari said.

"Give him a break!" Roxi reprimanded. "He's probably met this guy and was traumatized!"

"Like you were with that lesbian rapist?" Mari teased back.

"Whoa! You were raped by a lesbian?" Butters exclaimed.

"No I wasn't!" Roxi cried. "Are people here idiots or something! I was not raped!"

"Wow, she must have been raped something awful," Butters whispered to Mari.

"You don't know the half of it," Mari said. "She was messed up way before that."

* * *

><p>As Roxi fled for her life, Brittany shook her head at the poor girl. She must have really been suffering. Brittany herself hadn't been raped by a lesbian but she figured that it had to be extremely horrible.<p>

"She's such a strong girl," Wendy sighed as she began walking away, Bebe at her side. "I know I wouldn't be able to go to school after going through all that."

"I take back almost everything I ever said about her," Bebe swore.

Noticing that the group of concerned girls was breaking up and that quite a few of them were MUFFDIVERs, Brittany thought that was a good time for her to leave as well. She needed to get back with her fellow LESBIANs and maybe figure out a way to use this against the MUFFDIVERs. She had no qualms that her rivals would be doing the same thing. Even as she walked away, she was sure that Gwendolyn and her new crew were trying how to pin everything on them.

Well, they were going to see about that!

First she needed to see if she could find any LESBIANs around, maybe check to see if Kenny was nearby before Bonnie could beat her to him, and try to come up with some plan.

That was when DJ turned around a convenient corner and said "Boo."

Brittany jerked back for a second before she regained her composure. "Don't do that!" she scolded. "What are you, five?"

"You should treat me better; I am doing your spying for you," DJ said, her eyes narrowing at the other girl.

"Did you get anything?" Brittany asked, eager. The MUFFDIVERs must have met recently or something. That meant DJ must know what they were up to!

"I did," DJ said idly as she examined her nails, saying nothing more.

Brittany frowned. "Well?"

"Well what?" DJ replied, nonplus.

"What do you have to tell me?" Brittany demanded, wondering where this disobedience was coming from.

"A lot," DJ shrugged, "so long as you have something for me."

"Um, we do?" Brittany said hesitantly. That's right, they had a deal with this girl. But what was their side of it again?

"Give me the dirt I want and I'll tell you everything that happened at Gwendolyn's late night meeting," DJ said.

Dirt? Why would DJ want dirt? Oh wait, she must be talking about graveyard dirt! Bonnie had called her corpse girl before.

"Yeah, right away, but could you give me a hint of what's going on?" Brittany asked.

"Not going to work," DJ said clinically. "Tell me what you found on Bain first then I'll tell you everything you want to know."

Huh? Why did she want dirt from someone named Bain?

"You did get some info on Bain, right?" DJ growled edgily. Brittany found that she was very uneasy around this girl. DJ was so unlike any other girl that she knew and that included that bitch Gwendolyn and the lesbian rapist that was going around.

Wait, information? Oh, that's what she meant by dirt! Duh! Why the hell did Brittany think she was talking about dirt, you know, the kind that was on the ground and guys like rolling around in? Jesus Brittany, you gotta get your head out of the clouds!

Her blonde moment out of the way, Brittany soon realized that no, none of the LESBIANs had done anything to keep up their end of the bargain with DJ. Since DJ was demanding her payment first, they wouldn't be able to learn what Gwendolyn had up her sleeves. Then when the MUFFDIVERs did act, the LESBIANs would be taken by surprise and forced to munch the carpet!

Brittany could not allow this!

"Just…just give us a bit!" Brittany said hastily. "Don't throw away what you got, please! We'll get you something on Bain!"

"Better hurry up, I'm going to have ditch this," DJ said, holding up a folded piece of paper, "before anyone figures out I made it. Not a lot of time, you know. I might be able to keep it past third period but lunch is pushing it."

"We'll get something! Don't worry! It'll be juicy, I swear!" Brittany declared while simultaneously pleading with the other girl.

Okay, now what did this Bain guy look like again? Brittany prided herself on knowing and remembering everybody in the school, from what they looked like, to who their friends were, to what their personalities were like.

Let's see, who were the all the guys…there was Kenny, his friends Stan, Kyle, and Cartman, there was Craig Tucker with his friends Clyde, Token, and Tweek, Jimmy Volmer, Timmy Burch…um, Butters, that Mole guy whose name slipped her mind right now, that Mormon guy—Gary! His name was Gary!—that Jake guy who was so in the closet…

Huh, other than some miscellaneous guys who showed up here and there, she was kinda drawing blank. That couldn't be right. Who else was there? There was the dirty kid, that brown haired guy with the glasses, another who liked dressing up in blue—oh, there was that Star Wars fanatic Kevin Stoley, and there was that really crabby guy in the black coat.

Wait, the guy in the black coat? That was familiar and so were some memories of screams, a metal fork almost being stabbed in her back and—

Oh no, DJ couldn't possibly mean him! The Bain she was talking about was that Bain Cynis guy! Was that girl out of her mind or something? _No one_ wanted to be involved with him! The guy was a dick, an asshole, a freaking creep that always said that girls were stupid and should stay in the kitchen where they belonged. Well, there was Charlie White who hung around him but it was general consensus that not everything was right with her. She was still cool but Brittany wasn't going to be hanging out with her any time soon.

But DJ wanted dirt on Bain? There was something wrong with this girl, without question.

Yet, if she wanted dirt on the MUFFDIVERs, she needed to get dirt on Bain.

Oy.

* * *

><p>As students hustled and bustled about, Cartman sauntered into the school, trying to look as smug as smug could be.<p>

This was mainly to mask his manly shame of being made a bitch to his dubbed "bitch" but he wasn't about to admit to anybody what had happened. No, he would give them his version of things, how he barged into her house and demanded sweet, sweet sex from a very willing and submissive girl and that he was cool and that was just how he rolled.

He could do this. He was going to prove that everyone were assholes and Kyle was a single loser. He would should them all!

"You're late," Brianna stated from his leaning position against the lockers.

Immediately, all the bravado that Cartman had had that morning drained out of him.

"S-s-s-sorry!" he stuttered fearfully, looking down at the floor.

A moment of silence. "Well?" Brianna asked irritably.

Cartman swallowed, not looking up at her.

"Where's my good morning?" Brianna asked idly.

Oh! He was supposed to greet her! That's what she had told him to do after she had dismissed him—now hold on a damn second! He was Eric Theodore Cartman! He wasn't anybody's bitch, much less this bitch's bitch! She was his bitch if anything!

"Now wait just a damn minute!" he began to yell but one stern look from Brianna that promised a lot of sexual torment reduced him to saying meekly, "Good morning."

"That's better…though your disobedience will be accounted for," Brianna nodded at him. "Come on."

Cartman stared after her as she began to walk off. The further she was from him, the less submissive he became and soon his indignation began rearing its head again.

Who did she think she was? He was going to show just who was in charge here!

And lucky for him, he could see a few of the guys up ahead. Craig, Token, and Stan were the ones he had direct sight of but he could tell it was a group of them so there were probably a couple others.

What better way to show his awesome dominance over his bitch than in front of the guys? Just by being there they would make sure that he didn't lose his cool. Brianna, you were about to learn your place!

He began hurrying after the girl, trying to time things so that she would be close enough to the guys that they would be able to see and hear them. When it came to timing, there was no one else better than Cartman. He of all people knew that timing was the key to the impact of every action you did and how others would react. Sometimes, only a second could mean the difference between someone eating out of your hand or seeing right through your deception.

Brianna was nearly ten feet away from the guys when Cartman caught up with her and before another step was taken, he demanded out loud, "What'd you think you're doing, bitch?"

Brianna froze up at his language and lo and behold, the guys were glancing over at them, wondering what had happened to cause such a cool guy like him to start shouting. This couldn't get any better, he could see Kyle between Stan and…was that Damien? Freakin' fag; once a fag, always a fag, that's what Cartman said.

"Care to repeat that?" Brianna asked him, her voice dull.

"You heard me, _bitch_," he said, placing an emphasis on the last word. "Where do you think you're going without my permission? Eh? Speak up!"

Brianna's brown eyes darkened and pierced right through him. Cartman suddenly found that his heart was pounding in his ribcage and he felt the urge to curl up into a ball and start crying.

Without warning, Brianna grabbed his nose, her hand curling into a fist with the piece of flesh gripped between her middle and ring fingers. She jerked his head down and pulled him towards her. Trying to free his nose, Cartman reached out with his hands to try and pull her off but then she jerked upwards and he began clawing at the air.

"You know, I was going to let you off with a spanking," Brianna told him casually. "Now I see I'm going to need some _extra_ discipline. I hope your man titties are tough because when I'm through with them, we'll both be surprised if they don't fall off.

"Now fucking apologize before I have to get medieval on your ass. _Now_."

"I…I'm sorry," Cartman managed to get out, his voice nasally due to Brianna blocking his nasal passages.

"I'm sorry, I didn't quite hear that. Speak louder," Brianna ordered as she raised her nose-gripping hand higher.

"Aah! I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" Cartman nearly wailed.

"Not good enough but it'll do," Brianna said as she released his poor nose. "Meet me after school. We're going to _my_ house for your discipline."

"Y-yes ma'am," Cartman stuttered, looking down as he clutched at his nose.

Sniffing, Brianna looked away from him and caught sight of their male audience. Giving them a "what can you do?" expression, she shrugged and carried on walking.

The group remained quiet, watching Brianna leave for a minute before turning back to the humiliated Cartman. "So that was the bitch you were talking about yesterday?" Craig asked.

"Care to rephrase what you said?" Stan asked, smirking at him.

"Fuck you guys!" Cartman yelled at them. "Screw all of you! Imma going ho—"

"I'm not getting younger over here! Chop, chop!" Brianna yelled at him from down the hallway.

Meek again, Cartman hurried off after the other girl. Inevitably, the fires of his rage grew again as he heard the guys laugh at him. Oh, they were so going to get it. He was going to make them all pay for this.

But how?

That was when he spotted the signup sheet for Prom Queen and King nominees and a devious idea began forming in his head.

* * *

><p>Marcus was almost jittery as he drove up next to the SPPD station. The building was kinda small, in his opinion, but this was where Mr. Cynis' directions had led him. He had no cause to doubt his girlfriend's dad so he bucked up and got out of the car, heading for the front entrance.<p>

After so long in the academy, here he was, Marcus Cole, about to enter his first job as a real police officer. How could he not be giddy? From here it was learning the ropes and gaining experience so that sometime in the future, he could transfer out to a large department. Nothing like a city, though. Even Marcus knew his limits and from all the stories he had heard at the academy about city police, it was just too demanding of a job.

A town was better for someone like him. Marcus liked being a friendly guy and talking with people. In a city, he would have to be more reserved and more tough.

Didn't hurt that there wouldn't be much crime in a town either.

Through the doors he entered, squaring his shoulders as he spotted the mayor and her aides all gathered in front of a desk. Hearing him come in, the mayor turned her head around and said, "There he is, right on time."

"Mayor," he greeted, tipping his head down for a second in greeting.

Turning away from him, the mayor continued speaking to a man that Marcus couldn't see just yet. It was most likely his superior, he guessed.

"Now Barbrady, I want you to show the kid the ropes, get him settled in, and remember, you. Are. Not. God. We don't want to lose another one," Mayor McDaniels lectured.

"Sure thing," the voice of an unseen man said. There was a lackadaisical drawl to it and Marcus didn't know whether to relax or be bothered. The unseen man sounded real laid back, maybe a bit too laid back but Marcus decided to reserve judgment for a little while longer.

"That's what you said last time," the mayor said and it sounded like she was rolling her eyes as well. She turned back to the young man and said, "It's great to have you here kid. We have your uniform right here but for now, I want you to get to know the man in charge here. Rookie, meet Officer Barbrady."

She stepped to a side, revealing an overweight man in a tight fitting blue uniform. Despite being in doors, he wore a traditional police cap and had on a set of sunglasses that he should probably take off. Barbrady exhaled loudly, as if something was in his throat but other than that, did nothing but stare Marcus down.

"Um, good to meet you sir?" Marcus offered.

"Ditto," Barbrady said. Those sunglasses were a bit unnerving as Marcus couldn't see the officer's eyes. For all Marcus knew, Barbrady could be glaring at him or was showing gratitude. He just couldn't tell…

"Seems like you two are getting along," the mayor said. "I'd like to sit around but I have a town to run so I'll leave you two to get acquainted." As she led her aides towards the front door, the mayor paused for a moment and leaned in towards Marcus. "Oh, kid? Good luck. You're going to need it."

Marcus took his eyes off Barbrady to watch as the mayor left and as soon as the doors closed behind her, he was back to looking at Barbrady.

"You're the new kid, huh?" Barbrady said, scratching at his gut.

"I think we went over that but yeah, I am," Marcus answered as he stood tall.

Barbrady seemed to lean forward in his seat, as if wanting to get a closer look at him. "You know? You remind me of my father…" Marcus swallowed at that, wondering if this man had some bad experience with his parent. The way he trailed off certainly suggested that he "hated his father." Instead, Barbrady shrugged and said, "He was okay."

Marcus didn't know whether to gape or say anything about that.

"I've been told that you're going to be my new deputy," Barbrady said. "I have high expectations of my deputies, perhaps the highest in the nation. I want you to follow my orders and uh…I think that's about it."

"Alright, I can do that," Marcus said. Maybe he had been psyching himself too much for this day.

"Great," Barbrady said. "Now for your first…uh, order, I want you to…"

Marcus leaned in, eager for whatever his superior had to say.

"…get me a coffee."

Marcus blinked stupidly. Eh, okay? He looked around for the coffee machine and found it on the far side of the room. Was this guy serious?

"I take it with one sugar and a shitload of milk," Barbrady said.

Well, if this is what his senior officer wanted…

A couple minutes later, he was at Barbrady's desk, placing the coffee mug in front of his fellow officer. "Is there anything else?" he asked.

"No, I can't think of much," Barbrady shrugged as he picked up the mug, the liquid sloshing about. Taking a sip, Barbrady nearly slammed it down next to a small stack of what looked like clothes, some of the coffee jumping out of the mug and onto the pile.

"So…where's my uniform?" Marcuse asked.

"Oh, that's right here," Barbrady patted the coffee-stained stack of clothes. "I think I might have spilled something on it," the officer said as he lifted his hand off the uniform and looked at his wet hand with a frown.

For perhaps the first time, Marcus began to wonder if he had made a mistake here.


	8. I Announce My Candidacy

Author's Note: It's been almost a month since I last updated this thing. Well, I have a good reason for that, several if you want. The big one is that I was writing another story for another fandom while writing this one. The other story had priority over this one mainly because I had been working on it before I got the creative juices necessary to start this one. But between now and the last update, I reached the climax of the other story and was determined to get it all out before I lost it. As of last week, I believe, I have finished writing the other story so now I can focus more on this one. Updates ought to be quicker than they were before. However, life is also making its presence known so don't think you'll get something like two updates a week. It'll be more like once a week. Nevertheless, for those who know me, you know that I always finish a story, no matter what the response is.

So, belatedly, and without further ado, enjoy.

Disclaimer: I do not own South Park.

Warning: language

I Announce My Candidacy…

Sunny wasn't the type of person who stood out in a crowd. She may have had her hair dyed electric pink, and on that note she needed to decide whether to re-dye or let it fade away, but even that didn't do much to differentiate her from the faceless masses.

She was okay with that. It didn't really matter to Sunny whether or not she was some big player in the social scene or some special, fate-chosen messiah destined to save the world from being destroyed or something. She already had a taste of that and while it had been exciting at times, she wasn't looking forward to repeating the experience.

Maybe it was because her personality was bland, and that was really, _really_ bland, or maybe everyone was so self-absorbed but for some unknown reason, she was perhaps the most invisible person in school. No one really remembered her and when they did, there was always a mention of…that which will not be named.

Taste the power of the sun, her ass…

Back on topic, yes, she was the most forgettable person in all of South Park and she was just fine with that. Content was another word you could use. If there was any word that could accurately portray who she was, content was the best one you could pick out.

That didn't mean she didn't have the urges and desires of any other girl her age. Like with almost every teenage girl, puberty had done a number on her and the power of hormones was awesome to behold. Could she really blame those things for influencing her to accept the affections of a guy who had come into the video rental store she worked at whose only motive had been to get into her pants?

She wanted to think so but Rod had been the first person outside her family to really pay any attention to her and he was to first to pay _that_ kind of attention as well. But he had broken her heart, going after someone else as soon as he had reached his goal of luring her into his bedroom and doing those kind of things with her. It was an important lesson, she found out, in the weeks afterwards and she had really explored herself with her feeble attempts at getting vengeance.

That was why she was now semi-stalking the person who had killed Rod at her request. She was a slasher fan so what better person was there for her to adore than a real-life one? Bain Cynis hadn't complained about it yet and she was too shy to ever approach him after that night back in early November.

He still hadn't given her his autograph. Didn't mean that she was going to give up on it.

Did she like Bain? Kinda but she knew it wasn't going to go anywhere. Bain didn't like her in any way and only had eyes for Charlie White. Sunny was okay with that because if there was something that Rod had taught her, it was to not trust a pretty face. She was careful with her heart now and to who she would give it to.

So you must be asking that if she knew Bain was unreachable for her, why semi-stalk him? Well, in plain English, she was a fangirl. She was embarrassed to admit it. Like most people, she looked down at fangirls with a little disdain, always wondering what they saw in what they were fans of. Of course, she had realized that every girl was a fangirl because every girl was a fan of something. Didn't matter what it was.

At least she wasn't a Beiber fan. Thank God for small mercies.

But yes, she was a Bain fan, so to speak. All she wanted to do was watch him slash and slaughter. Was that really so wrong? Well, for the person being slashed and slaughtered, it was but whenever she watched horror films, she rooted for the killers, the demons, or whatever antagonist filmmakers could come up with.

She liked bad guys; not those rebel-without-a-cause guys but actual evil guys.

So when she started to engage in her nearest pastime, no one was more surprised than her when she came face-to-face (though it was more face-to-neck in Bain's case) with the subject of her fangirl-ism.

She jumped back in bewilderment, not expecting such a turn of events.

Bain was straight to business, as he usually was. "I need to talk to you."

Sunny swallowed and nodded her head in affirmation. She knew better than to speak; Bain had some kind of detestation for anyone of the female gender though she hadn't figured out why that was.

"Walk with me," Bain ordered as he turned on his heel, leaving the pink-haired girl with little choice but to follow. She wasn't about to argue with that because this was one of the few people she admired most. Screw the normal people with their good looks and egos; she'd take the monster any day.

"I find myself in need of assistance," Bain said, all business-like. "I also find that your unique talent to be invisible when fifty pairs of eyes are looking at you an invaluable asset."

Sunny blinked dumbly at the sociopath, wondering what he was getting at. Not everyone was an intellectual like him so forgive her if she was a bit slow.

Without looking at her, Bain continued, "I am offering a proposition. I need you to do some tasks for me and in return, you get to be a part of something…big, shall we say. I would go to Charlotte…probably…but this is something I know she would refuse to get involved in so my options are severely limited."

"Okay," she agreed.

Bain stopped in his stride and gave her an incredulous look. "Okay…what? Okay, you agree to my terms and will aid me or okay, you understand what I'm saying?"

"The first one," Sunny said.

"You really need to learn the art of bartering," Bain commented. "You do realize that you have agreed to work for me for nothing in return?"

"Other than the chance to work with you? That's more than enough," Sunny told him honestly. "Ooh! Before I forget, can I get your autograph?"

Bain gave her a dead look. "If I didn't need assistance, I would smash your face into the nearest flat surface."

"Is that a yes or a no?" Sunny asked.

"Hopefully you won't be this irritating in the near future," Bain stated. "Come. We have work to do."

* * *

><p>"You guys thought you were so smart, didn't you?" Cartman sneered as he settled himself in his usual spot at their usual lunch table.<p>

Kenny barely paid him any mind. He still was smiling over what happened that morning but the reason for not paying the larger teen any attention was that he was still tired from last night. If he had been getting laid last night, he wouldn't have cared that he was tired because it would have been worth it.

He did mind having to go out of his way to save some idiot's life after she had inavertedly started a mob. He was getting too old for this shit.

"Ay! Why aren't you guys looking at me?" Cartman demanded, glaring at them all.

Huh, apparently Kenny wasn't the only one ignoring Cartman. Well, to be fair you could only tolerate the fatass' presence for so long until you were overstimulated or desensitized or whatever it was.

"Cartman, we don't care," Stan stated. "Can't you let us finish the year without some wacky scheme putting us into life-threatening danger?"

Kenny agreed with that sentiment whole heartedly.

Instead of raging at them, Cartman instead smirked. "Fine. If that's the way you guys want it, sure. Just be sure to bow to me once I'm crowned Prom King."

"What?" That time it was Craig who was now staring at Cartman blandly.

"That's right, I'll soon be your king," Cartman said loftily. "Once I win, my first act will be to order you guys to suck mah balls. Kyle has to do it twice."

It was all quiet until everyone began to snicker. It was funny enough to laugh at but not enough to bust your gut over. Really, where did Cartman come up with this shit?

"What's so Goddamn funny?" Cartman demanded.

"Well, gee Eric," Butters said. "It's great that you're running and everything but I don't think you have…electability."

"You think that matters?" Cartman asked. "I'm running unopposed! You have no choice but to vote for me! So I'm gonna win! Suck on that assholes!"

Butters frowned at that and turned to Stan. "Aren't you gonna run, Stan?"

"Why?" Stan asked.

"Well, you are the star quarterback," Butters shrugged.

"That doesn't mean anything," Stan stated, going back to his lunch.

"Actually it does," Craig commented.

Looking up from his Sloppy Joe, Stan frowned. "What's that supposed to mean Craig?"

"Every year, the star quarterback of the school runs for Prom King and wins," Craig said simply. "It's like a tradition."

"Why would I care about that?" Stan shrugged. "We got a bunch of good players on the team who could run. Token. Clyde, surprisingly."

"Aren't you forgetting someone?" Cartman butted in.

Stan thought about it. "No, I don't think I'm forgetting anyone."

"I fucking played on the team!" Cartman bellowed. "Offensive lineman!"

"Oh, that makes sense," Stan said. "I saw more of your ass than I did your face. No wonder I don't remember."

"Screw you Stan!" Cartman growled, flipping him the bird. Stan returned the favor.

"I don't think I want to run," Stan said, deciding to go back to the topic at hand.

"But it's prom Stan!" Butters protested. "Senior prom!"

"Why do you care so much?" Craig asked the diminutive blond. "We're guys. Prom's not that big a deal to us."

Butters blustered but couldn't come out with anything to object with. Kenny sniffed but said nothing as he watched it. Really, this whole conversation was stupid in his opinion and he agreed with Craig. Who cared? Other than girls, naturally.

"I'm practically guaranteed the crown," Cartman crowed, wanting their attention back on him. "I get to be king and the other special tradition is mine to boot! You guys are making it so easy!"

"What other tradition?" Craig asked.

"I think he talking about the tradition that whoever gets elected Prom King also gets laid that night," Butters said.

Kenny perked up that.

"Get laid?"

"Yeah, the King and the Queen get to bump uglies," Butters explained. "There's also something about them getting married or something. I wasn't really paying attention."

"But they get laid, right?" Kenny pressed.

"Sure!" Butters chirped.

"Alright, I'm running!" Kenny exclaimed.

"What?" Cartman deadpanned. "You can't be serious."

"Why not?" Kenny demanded.

"Because you're poor, Kenny," Cartman said slowly, as if he was talking to a little kid. "Poor people can't run for political office."

"It's just prom, who gives a fuck?" Kenny retorted.

"You're not serious about this, are you Kenny?" Stan asked, getting over his shock at the announcement.

"You're not running," Kenny pointed out, "and once Kyle hears that Cartman's running, he'll enter just so he won't win. If I'm running, then Kyle will do everything he can to make sure I win. It's in the bag."

"You would stoop to using a Jew to help you?" Cartman exclaimed. "Oh, that's low Kenny. That's real low. I expected better of you."

"What makes you think Kyle wouldn't help me?" Stan asked. "I'm his best friend."

"But you're not running so it doesn't matter," Kenny replied cheekily.

"You guys are getting into this," Butters praised, eyes sparkling in awe.

"You guys are idiots," Craig stated.

"Shut up Craig!" the three of them snapped at the blue-clad teen. As an afterthought, "Shut up Butters!"

"You know what, it's great for you Kenny," Stan said. "I'll say it right now: I'm not going to run for prom king. It's gay and only people with no lives would run for it."

"That's because you know you'll lose," Cartman said offhandedly.

"Excuse me?" Stan narrowed his eyes at the obese teen.

Cartman continued as if he hadn't heard Stan. "I don't blame you for sitting out. You'd have to compete with me and I'd beat you in a landslide. Everyone likes a kewl person and I am the definition of kewl. In the dictionary, if you look it up you'll find my picture next to it."

"You think I'd lose to you?" Stan spat out. "Well you know what? I'll prove that I can beat you. I'll run for prom king and kick your ass!"

"That won't be hard; he's got a lot to go around," Kenny chimed in. "But you guys are going down because you know what is better than being cool? Sexy. Everyone loves a sexy person and I am Goddamn sexy."

"Oh man, this is really heating up," Butters said.

"I'm surrounded by idiots," Craig stated.

* * *

><p>Saying Stan was a competitive person was a bit of an understatement. Stan thrived on competition the same way Kenny thrived on sex and Cartman with food. So excuse him if he got a little too into things; he had inherited more than one thing from his father, unfortunately, and one of those things was his competitive streak.<p>

After announcing his candidacy, Stan left the cafeteria to find the sign-up sheet and after that he went to the restroom for a quick piss break. Already, his mind was spinning on how he was going to do this thing.

The first thing he needed was Kyle. Kyle was smart and he had connections. Big time connections. Puff Daddy connections. Connections that Stan believed he could use. But he had to beat Kenny to his Jewish friend so that meant as soon as the bell rang, he would have to grab Kyle as soon as possible and take him to a side.

He had to win this despite the fact that this was some stupid prom thing. He was in this thing now, regardless of what it was about, and he had to win if only to keep his father from doing something stupid. It was only a matter of time until Randy Marsh found out about it and that was when things would go downhill.

But Stan didn't have much to worry about. Who the hell would vote for Eric Cartman of all people? As much of a manipulator as Cartman was, not even he could gather enough votes to win something of this magnitude. No, his competition was going to be with Kenny and that was because he wouldn't put it pass the blond to sleep with every available girl to garner their votes.

Kenny was right; he was sexy but Stan was the town's sports' star. He was handsome, he was fit, he had charisma should he choose to use it. And why was he comparing himself to Kenny in something as superficial as this? Well…it seemed important for some reason.

The door to the boys' restroom opened but Stan didn't pay it much attention as he worked to psych himself up for this latest contest. That and finish up his piss. Water just went right through him.

Just as he was giving himself a shake, he found himself being spun around but before he could demand to know what was going on, his mouth was unexpectedly occupied by a pair of plump lips. Because he was still holding onto his dick, he felt the twitch from it at the strangely erotic smacker he was being given.

Then he got a hold of his brain long enough to push the fucker kissing him away.

"Dude! I am not…" he trailed off as he realized that it wasn't some guy that had tried to molest him. The healthy rack told him that he was dealing with a girl here and the distinctive red streak in her hair rang quite a few bells in his head. "Wendy—"

"Don't fucking call me that," Wendy 2 snapped as she grabbed him by his shoulders and pulled him close to her so that she could ravage his mouth again. Ending it just as quickly as she started, Wendy 2 said, "I hear that you're running for Prom King. Lucky me that I'm running for Queen, eh?"

Uh…what was going on?

"I'm tired of waiting," Wendy 2 stated. "I want you. Body, mind, and soul. We had good times when we were going out, didn't we? I want those times back Stan. I fucking love you so much."

She tried to kiss him again but Stan decided that no, he didn't want more. He placed a hand on her chest and pushed her back easily, his physical strength greater than hers when he cared to apply it.

"Hold it, hold it!" Stan ordered. "What are you doing here? It's the guy's bathroom! You shouldn't be in here!"

"A friend is watching the door; no one will bother us," Wendy 2 said, her eyes trailing down to his crotch. "Oh, it's been a while since I saw your little friend down there…"

"I have a girlfriend," Stan retorted.

"I don't give a fuck, dump her," Wendy 2 ordered. "She has none of what I got. You can't tell me our time together was boring."

The memory of fleeing Deadites at the former Shakey's came to mind.

"I'm not breaking up with Kyra," Stan refused. "And stop kissing me damn it!" he added when Wendy 2 tried to change his mind.

"I'm not giving up Stan," Wendy 2 stated. "Whenever I want something, I get it. I want you Stan, I had you once but then I let you get away. Never again."

Stan pushed away from the girl and the urinal he had been using. "I'm sorry, Wendy—"

"Don't say it!" Wendy 2 cut in.

"—2 but this is all some big misunderstanding," Stan continued, heedless of the girl's interruption. "I was going through a bad time back then. Wendy, the first Wendy, broke up with me and I wanted her back so I thought I could—"

"You think I give a shit about that?" Wendy2 interrupted successfully this time. "The only thing that matters here, Stan, is that I love you. I'm deeply, madly in love with you and I want you to love me back. It's a good thing then that when you and I win the prom crowns, we'll be married and live with one another forever."

"Wait, marriage?" Stan blurted out. "When the hell did marriage come into this?"

"I did my research, Stan," Wendy 2 said. "Did you know that 98% of all prom royalty at this school got married? You and I win, we'll be man and wife in no time."

"What about the other two percent?" Stan asked shakily.

"One of them got hit by a bus before the wedding," Wendy 2 shrugged. "They were engaged, though, so it's only a technicality."

What the hell had he gotten himself into? He knew he shouldn't have gotten involved in this prom nonsense but damn it, Cartman and Kenny had challenged his manly pride whether they knew it or not.

"I'm not going to break up with someone just because you say I have to," Stan declared. "And while we're on the topic, don't go that clichéd route and become my stalker because that's been done before."

"I'm not a stalker," Wendy 2 retorted. "Stalking's for losers who can't get a date on Monday night."

Something about that sounded off…

"Look, I'm gonna go and pretend this didn't happen," Stan said as he adjusted himself and zipped up. Spying his reflection in the mirror, he realized that his lips were stained with lipstick and he couldn't leave without trying to wash it off. The last thing he needed was for Kyra to find out about this though he had a feeling that she would regardless.

"I won't let you," Wendy 2 stated. "You can try but when all is said and done, it will be you and me who are crowned Prom royalty."

As he turned on the sink faucet, Stan watched as the bold girl left through the mirror and he knew that things had just gotten infinitely more complicated.

* * *

><p>Kyle had just been looking forward to getting something to eat. He couldn't think of anything that was wrong with that though he figured Cartman would have come up with ten (implausible) reasons.<p>

So why was it that he was being shanghaied for no apparent reason? He was just walking down the hall, Damien-less for the first time that day, when Stan practically waylaid him. Kyle noticed that it looked like Stan had washed his face recently but put it out of his mind as he struggled to figure out just what his best friend was trying to say.

Thus far, it sounded like a lot of gibberish but that could have been because Stan was speaking so fast.

"Slow it down, Stan," Kyle advised as he held a hand up. "I can't understand what you're saying unless you put spaces between your words."

"I need your help Kyle," Stan pleaded.

When has he never needed it?

"Help with what?" Kyle prompted, already knowing what his answer was going to be. He could count on one hand how many times he had refused Stan Marsh so he already knew that whatever it was that Stan was involved with, it was going to get crazy.

"I signed up to be elected Prom King and I need you to help manage my campaign," Stan said breathlessly, the same kicked puppy look that he had somehow mastered over the years on his face.

"Why the hell would you have to campaign for something like prom?" Kyle deadpanned. "You just put your name on a ballot and hope people vote for you. There's no need to campaign since everyone already knows who you are and there's no importance to it."

"That's just it—" Stan began to give his grand reason for such a request except something happened to interrupt him.

"Hey Kyle!" Kenny greeted cheerfully. "You're just the guy I wanted to see!"

"Back off Kenny!" Stan barked.

"I don't see your name on him," Kenny retorted.

"Hold it!" Kyle ordered. "What the hell is going on? Why are you guys at each other's throats?"

"I'm running for Prom King and I need you to manage my campaign," Kenny said.

Kyle frowned and looked at Stan then back at Kenny.

"Stan here just asked me the same thing. Why do you guys feel the need to campaign?"

"Because Cartman's running," Kenny said.

Ah. Now everything was starting to make sense. These guys were trying to preempt the fatass because when Cartman really wanted something, he tended to make things more dire than needed. For example, the morning announcements. Before Cartman, they just had some Ginger kid read them with no fanfare whatsoever until he was mistaken for a forty-year old trucker from Chicago and murdered. Now, the morning announcements were like some right-wing extremist talk radio show.

Thanks a lot Cartman.

He had to admit, he was digging the voice of that Casey Miller. Seriously, his voice was audible chocolate that melted on your tongue.

That didn't make much sense, did it?

"Okay, what do you want me to do?" Kyle asked, pinching the bridge of his noise. A habit he picked up from spending a lot of time with Stan and Randy Marsh.

"Help me!" Stan and Kenny simultaneously exclaimed. Looking at each other, the once best friends were now glaring the other down as each other's rival.

"Help who?" Kyle demanded.

"I asked first!" Stan declared haughtily as he smirked smugly at their blond friend.

"So? I can steal him," Kenny shot back. "No one can resist the sexy here."

"My God, you're giving me a headache," Kyle moaned as he rubbed his temples with his thumb and pointer finger. He was ignored as his two closest friends were trying to verbally bring the other to his knees or at least concede defeat. Figuring that they could handle this themselves, Kyle excused himself.

It wasn't like he wasn't going to help. Sabotaging Cartman's campaign would help to keep the fatass from winning. …hmm, Damien was starting to rub off on him.

Before he knew it, he was bumping into someone, an armful of school supplies crashing to the floor in a mess.

"Oh, I am so sorry!" Kyle exclaimed as he bent down to try and clean up the mess he had unwittingly made. "I didn't see you…just—I'm sorry!"

"It's okay…" a soft voice answered him. "I wasn't watching either."

Kyle looked away from the stuff he had already collected and found himself facing the girl from the other day, the one that had almost blinded him with her brilliant smile. Violet he believed her name was. She was kinda cute, he noted. In that innocent kinda way.

"Do we have a class together?" he asked, wanting to be sure.

"Yes," the girl answered, her cheeks flushing.

"Right and your name is…Violet, right?" he asked.

"Right," Violet confirmed nodding her head.

"I thought I recognized you," he said. "Sorry for bumping into you like this and…making a mess," he added quickly as he began to scrape up the rest of the papers and school stuff that had lain forgotten on the floor.

"It's okay," Violet said. "This is the first time this has happened so I guess I can let it go…"

Handing her the materials that he had collected, and only doing so after he had stood up, he said, "I'm usually more attentive. I got a lot on my mind and…yeah."

"I understand," Violet said. "That happens to me a lot. Thinking, that is."

"I guess I'll see you around," Kyle shrugged awkwardly. Man, he was feeling uncomfortable though he did not know why. It should be a sin or something to brazenly run this small girl over. Heck, she looked so delicate that looking at her wrong would make her shatter. "Again, I'm sorry."

"It's all right," Violet said, accepting his apology for what seemed the nth time. "These things, they happen sometimes, right?"

"I'm glad you understand," Kyle said as he took his leave, wanting to get away for a moment if only to figure out what was going on with himself. He was feeling rosy and he couldn't tell why that was. It had come out of nowhere but he had felt like this before. In fact, those times when he felt rosy only happened when he…

…he liked someone.

"Did you miss me?" Damien hissed teasingly into his ear.

Kyle jumped, startled out of his thoughts again though this time wasn't as rough. At least he hadn't run someone over. "Don't do that!" he admonished the Antichrist. "Popping out of nowhere and…"

"It's my one joy on the surface, besides you," Damien said as he threw an arm over the Jew's shoulders. "It's a shame that I only get to have a class with you maybe once a day and that's only because you have that wench Charlie there."

"Isn't she still sitting you or something?" Kyle asked wryly, entering into a sore subject.

"My father did make a deal with her," Damien grumbled. "I had no choice but to comply. It was the only way to see you again."

"I'm blushing," Kyle replied dryly, no sign of a blush on his cheeks.

"Your sarcasm is always so charming," Damien retorted just as the bell rang.

Kyle was just glad that this was his lunch period. You could be late for any class but when it was lunch, you were never late.

"You look stressed," Damien commented, getting a good look at him. "Is something the matter? If you want, I can take care of it."

"Would you?" Kyle asked. "Do you know anything about campaign managing?"

"More than any mortal should," Damien answered solemnly. "You have no idea how many political campaign managers there are in Hell. The only groups bigger than them are lawyers and the politicians themselves. Why do you ask such a question?"

"Stan and Kenny want me to run their prom king campaigns and I can only do one," Kyle said.

"Prom? You mean that ritual where whole families cannibalize their finances to appease their spoiled and self-absorbed daughters and boyfriends sacrifice their self-worth in the hopes of getting lucky?" Damien asked.

"Bingo," Kyle replied.

"Why do they want to politicize something like that?" Damien asked, curiously.

"So they can preempt Cartman who's also running and is going to do the same thing," Kyle answered.

"And they're willingly going to do this why?" Damien asked.

"Who knows?" Kyle shrugged. "I'm always the last to know this kind of shit."

"So why get involved?" Damien pressed.

"So I can shove it in Cartman's face that he lost," Kyle answered without hesitation.

"Now it all makes sense," Damien said, enlightenment dawning on him. "Schadefreude much?"

"Pretty much," Kyle said.

"You are so cute when you're vindictive," Damien teased. "Do you have time to—"

"No," Kyle interrupted.

"But you've been warming up to me," Damien complained.

"I am still single," Kyle stated.

"But what about—" Damien began.

"That was to test the waters, so to speak," Kyle cut in once more.

"Test the…? It seems to me that someone here is a river in Egypt," Damien said.

"I am not in denial," Kyle countered. "I just want to see what my options are before I commit to anything."

"Is it that girl?" Damien asked quietly.

"You will not lay a hand on her!" Kyle snapped, shooting a glare at the Antichrist.

"Do you not trust me?" Damien asked innocently. When his reply was a look of skepticism, the Son of Satan sighed and said, "Very well. I'll let you have your fun. I know how this will turn out but I guess it's best that you find out the hard way."

"You're being way too calm about this," Kyle pointed out warily. The Jew knew better than to accept Damien at face value. No, just because Damien acted nice didn't mean that he didn't have some ulterior motive. This was just too easy and Damien was handling it too well.

"What? You want fire and brimstone?" Damien replied, arching an eyebrow at him. "That would be simple, yes, but this is not the time to go nuclear. There will be plenty of time for that later. In this case, I see it best to wait but don't think I'll wait forever Kyle. That girl is going to have to work for you and all you have to do is sit there and look pretty. Let us rivals fight it out for your affections first."

"You're…you're going to try and woo me while competing with Violet?" Kyle asked skeptically. "That doesn't…"

"I've learned a lot since I returned to Earth, Kyle," Damien replied, the tips of his forked tongue slithering in-between his teeth. "I know that before all this is over, you'll be running back into my arms and I'll be there with them wide open. Mark my words."

* * *

><p>When they had finally noticed that Kyle wasn't there, Kenny had led the charge to bring Kyle back into the matter, Stan following at his heels.<p>

The blond teenager brought both of them up short when he saw the red-headed Jew talking with Violet Robins, size B point nineteen or size C point one zero one, he couldn't tell from this angle. In all the furor over last night and his declaration at running for Prom King, he had forgotten about that one other issue.

"Kenny, why'd you stop?" Stan complained from behind him.

"Look!" Kenny hissed to his dark-haired friend.

"So what? Kyle's talking with a girl," Stan said, not getting where the blond was going with this.

"That's the girl that's interested in him!" Kenny nearly exclaimed. "The one with the death ray teeth!"

"Really? She doesn't look like she can shoot a death ray," Stan said as he eyed the frail-looking girl.

"I think I would remember the girl that nearly blinded me," Kenny said blandly.

"So what's the hold up?" Stan asked. "I'm want to know if Kyle's gonna help me."

"Have you already forgotten?" Kenny demanded, not bringing up that he had done the same thing. "We're trying to get Kyle a girlfriend so he'll ditch Damien!"

Stan blinked at him, not getting what he had been told for a minute before it finally hit him. "Oh! Right."

"We'll let them have their space," Kenny advised as he began backing away from the couple. "They need time to sew their oats."

"What the hell does that mean?" Stan asked, not understanding the phrase.

"Let me put this in a way you'll understand," Kenny said. "We need to give Kyle some space so that he can work his magic and make love to that woman while laying her out by the fire."

"I get it!" Stan brightened. "Wow, my best friend is gonna get himself a girl. Nice."

"Nice," Kenny agreed. "I'll ambush him after school if he's by himself."

"Right. Wait." Stan frowned as he remembered just why they had been seeking the Jew. "Kyle's gonna help me, dick."

"No one can resist the Kenny charm," Kenny replied with swagger.

"You are so full of it!" Stan exclaimed as he stomped away from the blond.

"I jerked it this morning!" Kenny called back, ignoring the looks he received for the comment. Noticing the attention he had, the poor boy changed gears. "That's right folks, vote for the sexiest Prom King ever. Kenny McCormick, running for Prom King!"

Who said he didn't know how to sell himself?

* * *

><p>DJ had hoped that things would have been further along than they had been going. Well, this was what she got from dealing with girls who were obsessed with boys.<p>

They only had eyes for boys and everything else could go to hell. DJ was learning that maybe it was time to start mixing things up.

Patience was not one of her virtues, a big reason why she had poor people skills but that wasn't important here. What was important was that her virtually unknown crusade for vengeance was going nowhere. This realization was just hitting her as she stared at the LESBIAN representative…uh…whoever. She could be Pink Princess Ballerina Girl for all she cared.

"Is that it?" DJ pressed the feminine-looking blonde in pastel colors. "He spoke to some girl who wasn't Charlie White?"

"He could be cheating on her!" Ballerina Girl said aghast.

"For what? Talking with another girl?" DJ snarked.

"You can never be sure," Ballerina Girl answered. "All it takes is one. First it's hi, then it's how're you doing then they're making out in your parents' bedroom and you're being called Pepperoni-Face because your acne is acting up. At least, that's how Rory told it to me."

"Well…what were they talking about?" DJ grounded out.

"I don't know," Ballerina Girl shrugged. "Brittany, that Kenny-stealing insert-very-bad-word-here, just told me to keep an eye out on the guy you said is called Bain. So I kept an eye out and saw him talking with some girl with pink hair. Say, do you think I would look good with pink hair?"

"Pink hair? I can't think of anybody who would get a dye job like that," DJ rolled her eyes. Neither girl noticed Sunny Grain walk past unnoticed. "You're a real help. Sheesh."

"Aren't you suppose to give me something?" Ballerina Girl asked. "Brittany told me you had something on the MUFFDIVERs."

Oh. Right. That. Last she recalled, she had waved a piece of paper in front of Brittany's face and said that it had something on the MUFFDIVERs. Truth be told, that piece of paper could have had the Republican's health care reform proposal on it, the paper had been blank. Guess she had to make something up here.

Spotting a poster nearby that advertised for prom, DJ was hit with an idea. "Wendy 2 is planning on getting herself and her guy, whoever he is, to be elected prom queen and king."

Ballerina Girl gasped. "Oh my God! She wants to use the tradition?"

"Yeah, sure," DJ shrugged.

"That's a brilliant idea! Why didn't I think to try it with Kenny?" Ballerina Girl said, almost drooling at the thought. See, this was why DJ didn't like people. They were all idiots and she didn't care to be nice to them just because their feelings got hurt easily. "First the prom, then he'll carry me off and we'll get married and I'll be Bonnie McCormick instead of Snyder and it'll all be romantic—"

"You do that," DJ interrupted, tired of the fantasy. "Just get me more on Bain, alright?"

"Um, how about you, you know, give me all the stuff on the MUFFDIVERs instead of Brittany from now on?" Ballerina Girl or Bonnie as she called herself suggested. Oh, so the moron was going to try and go this route, eh? Far be it for her to try and derail the thing. "I'll…I'll spy on this Bain guy as much as you want."

"Sure, okay," DJ said. "But it better be good."

"Girl Scout's honor!" Bonnie declared as she gave a salute. "Oh, and can you not tell Brittany about Wendy 2's plans?"

"Whatever."

"Great!" Bonnie exclaimed as she took off.

Staring after the girl, DJ sneered and turned on her heel. She might as well see if Brittany had anything first and then go over to MUFFDIVER and spill her guts to them. This was a setback but only for now. Bain would get what was coming to him one way or another.


	9. Shore Up the Defenses

Disclaimer: I do not own South Park.

Warning: language

Shore Up the Defenses

There was really few reasons why Damien should attend a mortal school. He was an immortal whose sole destiny was the end of mortal civilization. What need did he have to learn about calculus?

Apparently he did need to know, according to his father. As he had grown up in the sulferic and fiery environment that was Hell, he had been raised, almost trained, with this destiny shoved in his face. When he had been younger, he had always thought that the end of the world would occur as a result of him using his supernatural powers.

Then his father, the Morning Star himself, shoved a copy of the Book of Revelations, something the Prince of Darkness had plucked out of the hands of a bible-beating, born-again Christian, into his face and told him to read.

It was like being given spoilers for Harry Pot—er, some book series that he was a fan of when only the first book had been published. The end of the world was supposed to be caused by humans with him just manipulating them. A case of politics dooming humanity all over again.

This meant that he needed to have a record of life on Earth. A background if you will. Coming up with that kind of thing was simple for a demonspawn but social skills were something different altogether. Damien would have liked to point out that he was socially active, but Satan had flatly said that having relationships through torture and Facebook did not count.

Charlie truly had no idea of all what she was providing. Still, she was getting something out of this so she was as much an accomplice as any minion he could summon. She was more valuable not because of what she could provide him, i.e. shelter and other survival crap, but her knowledge of mortal society.

Today was going to be one of those rare days when he picked her brain for some of that knowledge. It was between classes right now so he could speak with her without attracting the attention of some loser of a mortal teacher.

"Charlie," he said, trying to catching her attention.

Without looking at him, the brunette tomboy grunted with an impatient "what?" She obviously preferred that he be seen but not heard whenever she had to suffer his presence.

"What can you tell me about the social event where whole families cannibalize their finances to appease their spoiled and self-absorbed daughters while boyfriends sacrifice their self-worth and dignity in the hopes of getting into said spoiled and self-absorbed daughter's pants?" he asked.

"You mean Prom?" Charlie said. "Why are you so curious about that?"

"Apparently it has some significance around here," Damien said. "I would like not to be only person out of the loop."

"It's stupid," Charlie said as she crossed her arms over her chest. Hmm, telling by her body language, this seemed to be an uncomfortable topic for her. If he had a shred of empathy, he'd drop the topic or change it to something else.

Too bad he had not a shred of empathy. "Are you going?"

Charlie was silent for a moment, as if she was debating whether or not to answer him. "Yeah," she grunted at last.

"If it's stupid, why attend?" Damien asked, purely curious.

"Complicated," Charlie said, deigning not to look at him.

"Does it have anything to do with…?" he suggested, trailing off on purpose. There could be only one thing that the girl could fill that blank in with and it was also the only thing that could really impact this independent girl with an unconscious deathwish.

"That's none of your damn business," Charlie snapped at him, turning to glare him down.

"Fair enough," he shrugged off the venom that was shot at him. "I'll let it drop if you care to enlighten me on this purpose of this 'Prom'."

"It's just some get-together for the senior students to celebrate the fact they're almost graduating," Charlie summed up. "If you really want a more bare answer, ask Bain. At the very least, it'll be entertaining to hear his answer."

"I'll keep that in mind," Damien noted. "But what do senior students do at Prom?"

"Hell if I know. All the movies I ever saw on it showed people mingling, dancing, and getting drunk at some point," Charlie shrugged, losing interest already. "There's usually some sex that happens afterwards."

"Sex you say?" Damien perked up.

"Figures that would catch your attention," Charlie commented. "Why it would when you already pointed out that guys are using it to get some eludes me."

"For a second, you sounded just like your boytoy," Damien said. "It may not have been in voice but the vocabulary was very reminiscent."

"Screw you," Charlie scoffed.

"I also heard about something called prom king," Damein brought it back to the topic at hand. "What can you tell me about that?"

"I think what you mean is prom queen," Charlie corrected. "Nobody really cares about prom king."

"I don't know about that; some of the hormone driven males are getting pumped about it," Damien said idly.

"If one of them is Cartman, I'm not surprised," Charlie said.

But how did she…? Never mind. "What's so important about it?" he pressed.

"It's just some bogus thing that let's someone say they're better than everyone else because they're the most popular," Charlie ground out. "Fuckin' stupid if you ask me."

"That sounds like they're putting in a lot of effort for so little," Damien commented. He was no closer to finding out why Kyle's friends were going up to him for help to win this strange contest.

"I bet you anything that whoever's trying to become queen or king or whatever is doing it because of the rumors," Charlie said.

"What rumors?" Damien asked, raising an eyebrow.

"That whoever is going to get the crown will be married to the other and that they'll be screwing each other that night," Charlie stated blandly, not realizing that she was about to set something big into motion. After a thought that would only dig this metaphorical hole deeper, she added, "I think there's something about it happening every year without fail but I'm not too sure about it."

Married? Sex? All because of a crown? And it was a rumor? Normally Damien wouldn't put much stock into such a thing but the magic word "screwing" had captured his now undivided attention. Was it because hormones had a greater effect on him on Earth? Or was it because he was a fool in love with a mortal?

Did that crown have some kind of special power that it had allowed this elected royal couple to be bound in some tradition from which there was no escape? He let a smile curve his lips as he began envisioning the possibilities.

Perhaps he should do as his father had suggested before he booted him out of Hell and enjoy himself? Take part in the local customs and have a fun time.

Now that he thought about it, it sounded like a great idea.

* * *

><p>It was the final period when it happened. It didn't matter where you were so long as you were close to an intercom. Teachers were in the midst of teaching, students either taking notes or doing classwork, and janitors conversing in Spanish as they bitched about their low wages while getting ready to clean up the school once the final bell had rung.<p>

Not expecting the intercom system to screech to life that late in the day, everyone looked up from whatever they were doing to look up at the ceiling towards the panel above them where the sound had originated.

The last thing anybody expected was for an instrumental of the _Star Spangled Banner_ to start playing as a voice began to narrate.

"_Do you love America? I know I do. If America was a woman, I'd make her my wife and have a ton of little America kids. But that is not here nor there; what is is that there is an important election coming up and all of you need to vote._

"_Right now our country is in the toilet. Mounting national debt, Obamacare threatening to destroy churches, and Occupy Wall Street protesters are tearing the fabric of our great nation apart. If you love America and you want to save her from money-hungry liberals, vote Eric Cartman for Prom King._

"_Eric Cartman swears that he will get this great nation back on track, improve the economy by adding jobs, and improve your school lunches by fifty percent. Remember, if you don't vote for Eric Cartman for Prom King, then you're a Godless Jew that killed our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. Don't be a Godless Jew and vote for Eric Cartman."_

The intercom goes off and a good majority of teachers and students stare up at the ceiling, slack jawed.

The intercom activated one more time, this time with a disclaimer. _"Eric Cartman approved this message."_

Once their jaws unslackened, there were lots of groans as the realization that the chaos that was unique to their redneck mountain town was about to invade their lives one more time.

And naturally, there were those who would take advantage of it.

* * *

><p>Kenny was a man on a mission. To be honest, it was more like several at the moment, but only one was at the forefront of his mind. When the last bell of the day rang, he was out of his seat before it finished ringing and heading for the hallway.<p>

He had to catch Kyle before he was snagged away. The future of his prom campaign depended on it. It also didn't hurt that he was passing by Roxi and Mari on his way to Kyle's locker; he needed to keep tabs on his extra extracurricular activities. His alter ego needed all the edge he could get in order to try and find some way to defuse this _Le Chat Noir_ business.

Trying to nip this thing in the butt early had not worked, surprisingly. Going up to Roxi while she was cruising around town late at night hadn't stopped her. Trying to persuade her to not dress up in a skintight get-up and try to fight crime had no effect. He had no reason to want to go for an extreme, only-Cartman-would-attempt-this, antagonizing scheme. He would not compromise what he stood for even if it was the quick and dirty way to convince Roxi to relinquish her mask.

Besides, there weren't any good hospitals around to threaten to blow up anyway. And before you said anything, Hell's Pass was not a good hospital. All you needed to know about the place was its name.

So as he passed by the two girls, Mari looking like she wanted to be somewhere else or at least doing something else and Roxi overly excited over…

"—I need to figure out this guy's patterns. Discover where his hidden base is! All supervillains have some kind of hidden base or hideout or shit! Mari? Are you listening to me?"

All of the above was said at a very fast clip. Kenny doubted that the excited girl had paused for breath. So she was looking for a big time baddy and from what he heard, she had found one. Who then? Who had she found that was going to be her supervillain?

"Come on Mari! I need your help. I need to get more leather, more of those claw things we found. Maps, utility belt, maybe some kind of smoke bomb? GPS! Some of those little things that you put on people and it tells you were they are. Oh there's so much to get and why aren't you writing any of this down?"

"Roxi, I don't know why I hang out with you. I've told you before, I don't want to have anything to do with whatever the hell you're trying to do."

"I'm trying to get the most sacred thing a girl could get! We all dream about it though no one would mention it."

"What's this 'we' shit?"

"Us girls! The female population!"

"Oh. That 'we'."

"Glad you've caught up. Now…"

Kenny had walked passed them by now and the noise level in the hallway was starting to mask the conversation. He wasn't about to backtrack just yet because he didn't want to be caught and accused of eavesdropping. He could cover himself just fine but he had something else he needed to do and quick so he didn't stick around to find out more of Roxi's motivation.

A hundred bucks said that it was over that stupid Spiderman kiss. Damn you Sam Raimi. You did good work with the _Evil Dead_ _Trilogy_ of which the Antichrist seemed to be a fan of (the incident at Shakey's being evidence to this) but you had to spoil it for guys with that upside down kiss! Oi vey. And speaking of Jewish phrases, where was his favorite little Jew?

A locker door shut nearby, a certain Hebrew coming into sight. Wow, that was convenient wasn't it?

Kenny was at Kyle's side in practically an instant. He was so close to the redhead that it could be said he was fused with him, what with the way he surprised his friend with a one-armed hug. There was no questions of someone lacking any heterosexual-ness because most would attribute this to him just being himself. Kenny McCormick was a very physically affectionate guy you know.

"Get off!" Kyle grunted, shoving him off while darting a look around, relaxing only when he didn't see anyone worth being nervous about.

"I get off all the time, just tell me where and when," Kenny replied smoothly with a perverse grin. Add wink here…

"I don't even want to know what you mean by that," Kyle said as he turned on his heel, wanting to leave.

"Then I'll be clear with my intentions," Kenny said, easily catching up with the Jew. "Will you help me become prom king?"

"Still going on about that?" Kyle sighed, looking resigned.

"We both get something out of it; we get to beat Cartman at his own game," Kenny pointed out. "You heard that announcement. Cartman's struck first blood. Are you going to let him get away with that?"

"What do you think?" Kyle growled at the blond.

"So what's your answer?" Kenny asked.

"Alright," Kyle said. "I'll help you."

Kenny did a mental fist pump because a physical one would have been too obvious and may have alienated the one person he was sure would get him elected. "Great! So what do we do?"

"We have to play at Cartman's level but just over him so that we can retain some kind of integrity," Kyle mused out loud before given Kenny a once over. "Dignity is no problem."

Kenny frowned at that. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing," Kyle dismissed quickly. "What we need to do is do something to counter Cartman's ad. The best way to do that is to counter with another ad. A positive would be best."

"Why not a negative one?" Kenny asked.

"Don't start mudslinging until you have to," Kyle said. "We'll let Cartman do it first so we can call him out on it. Say that he has so little confidence in his own ability to win that he has to tear you down."

"Makes sense," Kenny shrugged. He had no idea of how these things were suppose to go. It's why he was asking for Kyle's help in the first place.

"We're going to need more help on this," Kyle added. "Ike pays attention to politics a lot. He can help us out once he gets off the phone with his girlfriend."

Kenny shifted his attention away from the musing Jew just as he spotted Stan coming their way. Tough luck, Stanny boy, Kenny had just landed the big one here. As Kyle's best friend opened his mouth, most likely to ask for Kyle's help, Kenny interrupted him.

"Got to him first, Stan. He said yes," Kenny informed the raven-haired jock, flipping Stan off from behind Kyle. "Got a lot to do. Ads to make, Cartman to beat, you know how that goes."

Stan stared dumbfounded at the blond for a second before his eyes narrowed in understanding. "You've got a lot of balls, dude," he spat as he watched Kenny lead Kyle away.

Perking his head up, Kyle frowned. "Did something just happen?"

Ah, he hadn't noticed Stan yet. Most likely he had been too busy coming up with ways to derail Cartman's ambitions. That kind of thing always narrowed Kyle's attention to the point that he missed a lot of stuff. Perhaps not the best trait Kyle had because if you thought Kyle could be oblivious before, heh, but it was useful every now and then.

"Nothing much," Kenny shrugged. "What else can we do?" he asked, returning to the topic at hand.

* * *

><p>Oh, this was funny. Cartman smirked as he watched Stan stare after Kenny and Jew, looking like some heartbroken loser. Just about made his day.<p>

But it wasn't enough to just watch. That just wasn't his style. He had to rub it in a bit, make the target of his amusement squirm a bit. What other entertainment did he have in this town other than that?

"Is your boyfriend cheating on you?" he teased Stan, reveling internally as the pussy shot a glare at him.

"Shut up Cartman," Stan growled, obviously not in the mood for his brand of "unique" teasing.

"You know, I expected more from Kenny," Cartman commented, shaking his head as if he was some kind of disappointed parent. "Joining forces with a Jew. He ought to be ashamed of himself."

"What did I say about shutting up?" Stan eyed him with a venomous stare, his hands balling into fists.

"I don't recall," Cartman said mockingly, putting a finger to his chin as he looked up towards the ceiling thoughtfully. "Probably wasn't important anyway."

"Why don't you grow up?" Stan demanded. "And stop ripping on Kyle already!"

"You never said anything about that before," Cartman taunted. "What? You don't agree with me that Kyle's a Jesus-killing Jewrat who either needs to be converted or sent to a special concen—I mean 'Happy Camp'?"

"Happy Camp?" Stan repeated.

"It's what we used during that Canadian-American War," Cartman said. "Don't you watch your war propaganda anymore? For shame."

"Fuck you Cartman," Stan spat at him. "I'm not going to let you win. In fact, I don't need Kyle's help anyway! You're going down tubby-tits."

"Ay! Don't call me tubby-tits, you pussy, environmentalist hippie!" Cartman roared. As an afterthought, "I'm big-boned!"

"Sure and I'm the Queen of England," Cartman froze up as he heard Brianna speak from behind him. "Tubby-tits, I have to remember that one. Thanks Stan."

"You're welcome?" Stan replied, puzzled by the unexpected arrival of the girl.

"Coming Eric?" Brianna stated more than asked. "I hope you got something for us to do after school."

"Yes ma'am. Absolutely ma'am," Cartman responded automatically before he scowled at himself. Like hell he was some well-trained servant! He was gonna give this bitch a piece of his mind and show her just who was in charge her—

A look stopped his inner monologue and he bowed his head in submission as he followed after her, his mind scrambling to figure out something to try and make Brianna pleased with him. His already light wallet was about to get a lot lighter real soon.

Fuck.

* * *

><p>"Girls. Unlike all our other meetings, this one is very important," Gwendolyn announced to the congregation of MUFFDIVERs. "As of this moment, I am running to Prom Queen and I need all your help to get elected. I want everyone out there promoting me and promoting Stan for King as well."<p>

"You buy into rumors now?" Ella asked skeptically, not bothering to raise her hand up as any polite person would.

"It's not a rumor, there's evidence to back it up!" Gwendolyn retorted.

"So you took time out of your day to research this," Ella summed up, giving Gwendolyn an unimpressed look. "You must have a lot of time on your hands."

"Hey! No one asked you for your opinion!" Gwendolyn snapped, losing her composure for a second. Regaining it with a reminder that she couldn't afford to alienate these girls now of all times, Gwendolyn tried a more gentle approach than before. "Sorry, it's just I've been a bit frustrated recently."

"How so?" a MUFFDIVER asked curiously. "Just frustrated or sexually so?"

"I plead the fifth," Gwendolyn said hastily. "Just, listen to me for a sec, okay? I know I've found a surefire way to get back together with Stan but I know there's going to be a lot of competition for Prom Queen. That's why I need you girls' help to win."

"Why not try breaking Stan and Kyra up instead?" Ella suggested.

"Stan's running for Prom King so even if I get him away from the competition, if he wins I can still lose him," Gwendolyn stated, her face hardening. "I will not risk that."

"Um, do you think Kyle will run?" Violet asked sweetly, slightly preening under the attention she was receiving from the other MUFFDIVERs.

"I don't know," Ella answered the smaller girl. "We could check."

"No!" Gwendolyn blurted out, blushing slightly in embarrassment as the other girls looked at her, wondering about her unexpected refusal. "We…we can't afford to divide ourselves when we should all unite under one person. That way, anyone else running will have to contend with the full, united force of all of us."

"But wouldn't it make sense for two of us to run at the same time?" Violet asked, tilting her head to a side in such a way that even Gwendolyn had to admit she looked cute. …no homo. "That way, there's a better chance of a MUFFDIVER becoming queen."

"She has a point," Ella said. "If Clyde's going to run, I might too."

"But what if Stan becomes King instead of Clyde?" Gwendolyn demanded logically. "Stan's mine, remember? If you and Stan win, you're going to have to marry him instead of Clyde."

"Isn't that a chance we have to take?" Ella challenged. "And what about the LESBIANs? Don't you think they know about this too? They're going to put as many of them out and what if one of them wins instead?"

"The LESBIANs are so divided that they can't unite under just one," Gwendolyn scoffed. "They'll be so divided at the time of voting that they're sure to lose. We stick behind one MUFFDIVER, we're sure to win!"

"But what about an independent?" Violet asked. "There are more girls who aren't MUFFDIVERs or LESBIANs."

"Please! What person without our kind of support stands a chance at winning?" Gwendolyn derided.

"Bebe Stevens," a MUFFDIVER said. "I saw her sign up to be on the ballot."

That splashed a lot of cold water on Gwendolyn's fiery ambitions. Despite all the resources Gwendolyn had, Bebe was still more popular than she was and that included both girls and guys.

Bebe would indeed be a worthy opponent, Gwendolyn decided. However, she was going to have to do what it took to take her down.

"Why not let a few of us run at the same time and see who has the most support?" someone suggested.

"Like a caucus?"

"No, a primary!"

Christ, why weren't the girls rallying around her? Gwendolyn gritted her teeth together but she knew that trying to strike these suggestions down would cost her more than anything. The only way to get what she wanted was to play this game of politics and win.

"Fine, we'll do that," Gwendolyn grounded out, trying to sound like she was being gracious. "We'll…_back_ whoever has the most support."

Already she was beginning to come up with plans to get around her unexpected rivals. She would be damned if she lost this!

* * *

><p>Unbeknownst to MUFFDIVER, LESBIAN was in the same kind of situation except it was a bit more…<p>

…dramatic.

"Oh God, what if I'm not popular enough!" Rory Neilson wailed. "I won't win and then I won be able to impress Craig and he'll think I'm a loser and a pepperoni-face! I think I'm going to die!"

"Hold yourself together!" Brittany ordered. "We can't fall apart right now! And Kenny's going to be King with me as Queen so ha!"

"Why're you so sure you'll win?" Bonnie dared. "How do you know I won't win?"

"You're like Sarah Palin four years ago," Brittany retorted, "you know, old news, homely, and unrecognizable where I'm more Michelle Bachmann. Current, young, and incredibly popular."

"Bull!" Bonnie cried out.

Safe to say, they were no closer to a consensus. With a divide so large, it would be a wonder if this splintering group would be able to hold itself together. This only made DJ glad that she was more of an outsider in this group than anything. Her classification as a spy put some distance between her and them and she couldn't be more glad for it.

She could already predict what was going to happen. A bunch of them were going to sign up for the ballet and compete against one another. Some had probably already done so without thinking about the consequences. Once they had all heard about the rumored legend of South Park prom royalty, things had gone to hell.

And to think that DJ had aligned herself with two groups of girls who were most likely doing the same thing as one another.

Without anyone being the wiser, she slipped out of the abandoned classroom at the back of the school right next to the bandroom. She needed a little alone time so that she could regroup and go over what her plan was. So far she hadn't made much progress in her goal to pay Bain back for freezing her and that was beginning to annoy her.

She expected to have something by now, even if it was just a little hint. She knew that this was going to take a while but really, she had to pick the most incompetent help you could get. Boy-crazed, hormonal teenage girls.

She could feel her brain cells dying one by one.

DJ wasn't about to give up though. She was a vindictive person by nature and the outrage Bain her perpetrated against her had to be addressed. She had hoped to be able to find out something about him and hold it over his head, taunting him and making him squirm.

She wanted that more than anything. He had made her helpless and far be it for her to not return the favor. DJ wanted him to feel the same way she had as she had stared through that cold ice, seeing the world all around her and unable to do anything to influence it. She had been conscious throughout that ordeal and still had nightmares about it. Of course in her nightmares, she wasn't thawed out. Instead she was either abandoned or placed on some kind of pedestal so that people could point fingers at her like she was some kind of freak of science.

If she could have figured out what Bain had done to her to freeze her in the first place, she would have replicated it on him but she didn't know and still hadn't figured it out. Even if he had mentioned what he had used all that time ago, she hadn't paid too much attention to it, instead focusing more on being proven right that his act of amnesia was just that, an act.

Don't get her wrong, the moment she had been thawed, she tried to point the finger at Bain, say that he had done this to her. However, she wasn't able to voice this and was in the midst of recuperating when the law had fingered the Govenator Arnold Schwarzenegger as the culprit instead.

So Bain had gotten off the hook thanks to the chaos he had caused at the high school as well as the adults' general stupidity.

DJ wasn't going to let him get away with it but with how things were going, she was beginning to get exasperated. Was everyone an idiot or something?

She left her maddened thoughts as she spied that pink-haired follower of Bain's, Sunny wasn't it? The only reason that DJ had noticed the incredibly bland girl in the first place was that said bland girl was walking hurriedly, as if she needed to be somewhere as soon as possible.

_Now why was that?_ DJ wondered. She had no memory of seeing the girl move anywhere that fast before or with such intent. School was let out so that told DJ that Sunny's person of fascination wasn't here. Bain rarely if ever lingered at school unless he was up to something. So then why was Sunny in such a hurry?

Recalling what Ballerina girl—er, Bonnie had told her, Bain had spoken to Sunny about something. From what she had seen, Bain didn't interact with his stalking fan. Ever. But what if…

That made sense, actually. The only reason DJ could think of as to why her nemesis would speak to anyone outside of his girlfriend was to use them. So what would Bain use Sunny of all people for? It was a question that warranted investigation and since her best lead, that being Sunny herself, was nearby, DJ might as well follow up on it.

Who knows, it may give her the dirt that she was searching so hard for.

* * *

><p>Marcus was tired when he returned back to the Cynis home that night. It was kinda a mixed feeling to be honest. It felt good because he had a job now and it had been a part of his plan when he had decided to move to this town but it was also exhaustive due to all the little tasks that his superior had put him through the whole day.<p>

Even though Barbrady projected this really laidback persona that made you think he was slow in the head, he was a very demanding taskmaster. There had been moments when the young man had thought that head of SPPD was going through a power trip but he had dismissed that idea time and time again. Barbrady was a profession; he wouldn't stoop to abuse his position.

He had to have some integrity!

Regardless, at the end of his first day, Barbrady had deigned to let him go for the night. Tomorrow he would really put his nose to the grindstone and Marcus was both looking forward to it as well as dreading it. If it was going to be anything like today, Marcus knew he had a lot of work to look forward to, the least of which was making sure his superior had his coffee the way he liked it.

C'mon Marcus, don't let him sense fear! He needed to brave this because otherwise, how was he going to get anywhere in life? He was just going through some light hazing, it would pass in time and then he could settle in to advancing himself as a member of law enforcement. He hadn't spent all that time in the academy to give up now!

Still, as he entered the front door, he felt a surge of energy as he spotted his girlfriend coming out of the kitchen. Oh dear Sierra, you were the one thing that could keep him going. Without saying a word he marched up to her and enveloped her in a big bear hug, pressing his face into the top of her shoulder.

"What's this all about?" Sierra wondered out loud.

"I missed you today," Marcus murmured into her shoulder before pulling away from her to look her in her heterochromatic eyes. "I got the job, Sierra. It was tough today and all I could think about was seeing you when I left."

"Oh was work hard today?" Sierra asked as she returned the embrace, pulling him up against her and rubbing his back like his mom used to do whenever he was sick. "My poor baby."

"I love you," he said softly and for her ears only. Sierra hummed in response.

He could smell her perfume and it was intoxicating as he took in a deep breath. It never failed to get his blood boiling, though it wasn't in anger mind you. Just smelling that scent that had hints of spice in its lavender makeup could rejuvenate him and that was in more ways in one.

He'd have to keep "Little Marcus" from getting too excited because that would just be awkward what with the fact he was in the middle of his girlfriend's parent's living room.

"Smelling me, huh?" Sierra spoke into his ear teasingly.

"I can never get enough," he replied as he rocked them softly from side to side.

He could feel her smirk against his skin. "Well, maybe I can do a bit more…"

"The PDA, it burns my eyes," Bain drawled from the foot of the stairs.

It spooked Marcus slightly how his girlfriend's younger brother could sneak up on them like that but he fought against showing that surprise by sending the shorter male a glowing smile. It at least would mask what he was truly feeling and hopefully wouldn't draw blood.

"What's up?" he asked, still holding Sierra but twisting his head around so he could look the other sibling in the eye. When Bain wasn't forthcoming with any answer, Marcus felt he needed to try again and so said, "I got my first job! I'm officially a member of the South Park Police Department."

"Fan-fucking-tastic," Bain said blandly. Marcus was curious how someone could say something like that but sound so emotionless at the same time.

"Yep!" he continued. Perhaps his cheer would be contagious enough to lift the mood that was souring. "Soon, you won't have to worry about me taking up space around here. I'll have my own space so you can go back to what things used to be."

"Except you'll be patrolling the streets of my house," Bain added. "You must be so excited."

"Why don't you go back to your room or something?" Sierra cut in, a bit exasperated. Marcus thought nothing about that; he had had friends before who spoke to their brothers and sisters as if they were intruding into their lives with the sole purpose of ruining it. He had figured that Sierra had been glossing over that part of her life a bit when she had told him all about her family.

It was nothing to be concerned about. Really.

"Remember other people live here too," Bain snorted at them as he stomped up the stairs. His thuds faded into the background soon enough and it made Marcus wonder if the other male was even in the house. How can someone be so loud one moment then completely silent the next?

"No matter what, he's always grouchy," Sierra grumbled, reminding the young officer of the law that he was still holding her.

"You know why?" he asked in reference to the mentioned grouchiness.

"Who knows what goes on inside his head," Sierra rolled her eyes. Then turning the different colored optics so that their stared piercingly into his, she complained, "Why are you so interested with him when you have me here?" Then with an enticing smile, she pulled away from him while snatching up a hand to begin leading him towards the basement. "You look so tired…maybe I can do something to _relax_ you."

With such a beauty beckoning him into surrender, Marcus found he could not ignore that siren call. His resolve turned to mush as he allowed himself to be lead towards his temporary living space in the Cynis basement.

He really couldn't refuse something with that much beauty when they were being so alluring.


	10. All in a Day's Work

Author's Note: This chapter is kind of an in-between chapter, I guess you could call it. Once I post the next chapter, there will be a poll for you guys to mess with but what it'll be about, you will have to find out. Enjoy.

Disclaimer: I do not own South Park.

Warning: language, violence

All in a Day's Work

Bain had no time for insipid morons who had trouble differentiating between which of their brains they should be using at any given time. If the big city slicker that was Marcus was so enamored with his whorish bitch of an older sister, it was not his problem when he was burned for it.

He had more important things to do which was why he was staring at the screen of his laptop contemplatively. Beside said laptop and in his lap as well were quite a few notebooks, their opened pages revealing scrawls of writing and drawings of diagrams that to the layperson wouldn't make much sense. To Bain, however, they meant a lot.

He tapped a mechanical pencil against his lip as his thoughts raced ahead with ideas and possibilities that it was almost futile to try and keep up with them. He was going to have to come to some kind of plan of action soon though because he was running out of time now. There was no more time to fantasize anymore, a pity really since he had been dreaming up schemes for this for years.

It had become an obsession, almost.

Charlotte's arrival into his life had made him forget about it for so long but thanks to the French fucker that was her closest platonic friend, he was back on track now though he had far less ideas and plans for himself to use. His research into bringing them to life was stalling as well and that in and of itself was disappointing.

Truthfully, he could do half of the things he had written down and planned over the years but that was not the problem. No, the problem was that none of it was extreme enough in his mind. He wanted this to be big, something no one would ever forget. Just mentioning it would bring back nightmares that people would love to repress. And, of course, the most important thing was that none of it would be traced back to him.

He was smarter now than ever before. That was why he recruited that stalkerish fan of his in the first place.

It ultimately came down to what he wanted to do. He just couldn't decide! There was so much good material here and while some of it was doable, the stuff that would fit the bill was too far-fetched or beyond his budget. Yes, he had been saving up for this since he had first begun planning and while he had a substantial amount at his command, it wasn't enough to do some of the more impressive designs.

The thought of combining elements of different plans had occurred to him and right now he was in the middle of meshing some of these ideas together. Even with that he was having trouble. What would seem like a good idea would have to be scrapped when another element was added to the equation or it exceeded the saved funds he had.

As a mental exercise, it was worthy of his intellect but the sense of "hurry up, you don't have much time!" was continuously pressuring him so that he didn't look at this as some kind of commendable test. But he would be damned if he gave up now. He had been at this for how long again?

He needed to take a break, he supposed. Yes, there was that sense of urgency to hurry up and come up with something grand but he knew that in his frame of mind, he would only go in circles. A little rest would allow him to look at his conundrum in a different light and allow him to come up with a solution that would more than please him.

He had shut his notebooks so as to not give him the temptation to change his mind just as the door to his room opened. Almost reflexively, he reached for Winslow before he remembered that he had left the blade in his coat pocket. That had been a purposeful decision because he found that Winslow had upset the space on his desk, giving less room to his notebooks.

By the time he was ready to change the direction of his hand, the intruder was in the doorway and Bain gritted his teeth in annoyance. There was no point in throwing Winslow at the dartboard he had hanging next to the door, the only wall decoration that he had in here. The jerk of surprise that he reveled in would be denied because now the trespasser had a good look at where he was, irritating him with that damn smug smirk.

"Get out," he said coldly as he glared at his elder bitch of a sister.

"That anyway to talk to me, Braindead?" Sierra taunted back at him.

"If you haven't realized that my dissociative fugue has lifted, there's no hope left for you," Bain retorted. "Get out."

"Why? This is my house too," Sierra replied blithelessly as she plopped herself on his bed. Bain stared real hard at where the bitch was sitting, his fingers curved claw-like, twitching with suppressed anger. He had the sudden urge to change that comforter now. "Besides, can't I spend time with my baby brother?"

"No," Bain stated, glaring full out at her. A thought occurred to him and he added, "And why start now when you never tried before?"

"Haven't you heard that absence makes the heart grow fonder?" Sierra said.

"Haven't you heard that you're an undiagnosed sociopath with a superiority complex?" Bain spat back.

"I'm not crazy," Sierra rolled her eyes at him. God how he hated the fact that two of them shared the same eye inflection.

"And in denial," Bain added scornfully.

"And you're making shit up," Sierra shot back.

"What is it you want?" Bain snapped, tired of the games. Normally he would enjoy such things but it was never fun when you played them with someone pigheaded. "You don't do anything unless there's something in it for you. You want to make me miserable, is that it? No, no, that would be petty, wouldn't it? But wait, I forgot, you're all about pettiness. What was I thinking?"

"I am not petty," Sierra huffed.

"So it's my imagination that you didn't spread that ruthless rumor campaign against that one girl…Christina Davis? Popular girl who everyone liked more than you? Grade level above yours? And weren't you the one to run her—"

"I had nothing to do with that!" Sierra interrupted, glaring at him. "She deserved it anyway, the fucking bitch."

"Ooh, did I hit a nerve? Good," Bain said with an acidic tone. "Maybe I'll strike blood next time."

"You're impossible," Sierra stated. "It's no wonder nobody likes you. I bet they talk about you behind you back all the time, calling you a loser and a tiny dick asshole. What does that girlfriend of yours see in you anyway?"

"A lot more than your dumbass boyfriend sees in you," Bain remarked. "Your sexual spell won't work on him forever."

"He won't leave me; he'd have to be crazy to do that," Sierra boasted. "Where is he ever going to find someone as beautiful as me and willing to date him?"

"Beauty is only a light switch away, whore," Bain retorted. "Your face may attract them but I wonder what they do when they see your gut? That is if you have one and aren't anorexic."

"Fuck you," Sierra spat at him as she laid back on his bed, making his left eye twitch. Oh great, now she was getting her hair all over. "At least I have men crawling over one another, begging me to date them on their knees. One look at you and I bet every girl with a bit of sanity is running for the hills!"

Then he guessed that it was a good thing that Charlotte wasn't as sane as she made herself out to be. She was unstable though she kept herself together better than he did.

"Those men must be, how do you say, brain dead themselves if they're on their knees begging _you_ for a date," Bain scoffed. "Unless they're begging to get in your pants to that unremarkable hole in your groin that looks like sandpaper and is just as rough. And they'd have to be desperate, especially if all the other drunken whores turned them down."

"I wonder why Mom never aborted you," Sierra sneered.

"She must not love you as much as you think she does," Bain smirked at her.

"You shouldn't talk to me like that; I have a cop for a boyfriend now," Sierra warned him. "Wouldn't he like to know what you do in your free time, you doll-killer?"

"No proof means he can't lay a finger on me," Bain replied. "And are you still obsessed about those damn things? What sane person would collect those damn things?"

"I know you were the one that ruined them," Sierra stated as she sat back up on his bed. "You're the only one who would."

"I think I would recall tearing those things apart," Bain said, lying through his teeth. Oh he remembered doing that though it was a memory that was somewhat hazy. He was left with knowing that he had committed the deed and destroyed his sister's beloved collection but the details were all a blur.

"I'll have Marcus keep an eye on you," Sierra sneered as she got back to her feet. "A cop is trained to look for all the little things so one mistake and you're dead meat, Braindead. That's what he told me."

"He won't become a detective in a year," Bain shot at her back. "He'll be stuck on the streets for who knows how long before he's even considered for such a prominent position."

"We'll see about that!" Sierra spat as she left his room at long last though she didn't shut the door behind her. Frowning at that, Bain moved to shut the wooden barrier himself, locking it this time so no more trespassers would interrupt his private time.

Turning back to his notebooks, he stared at them for a moment as thoughts raced through his head. Picking one up and skimming through it, he found a specific page he had been looking for. Not pausing for a second, he opened another one and then another when he found nothing of note in the second book.

A plan was forming in his head and as he found and bookmarked specific pages, it began to take shape. Snatching up one last notebook and turning to a page that had nothing written on it, he began making an outline, writing down what was in his head, creating a solid plan.

This could work. Oh, this could work real well…

* * *

><p>Gary had been about to retire for the night when his cell began ringing. It was a bit of a surprise for the Mormon kid as he didn't get many calls this late at night. Most people, if they wanted to talk with him usually did so when they knew he wasn't busy with something, like school. Even when they called when he was in the middle of something, it was still daylight out and it gave him time to call them back later.<p>

There was that one time when he ended up playing phone tag with an old friend from Salt Lake City but that was the only time that happened.

But back to the matter at hand, someone was calling him up late at night and just when he was about to go to bed. Should he answer it or let it ring and go to voice mail then check on it in the morning?

Well, the thing to do was pretty clear here.

"Yes?" he answered into the phone's receiver after swiping up the small device.

He was bombarded with a string of words that had little to no pauses in-between them but he recognized the voice as belonging to Kyra. Something was up with her and it had to be something important because she had never called him up this late before.

"Whoa, whoa, slow down Kyra, slow down," he said into his phone, trying to calm the girl down. "What's going on?"

"Stan wants me to run for prom queen!" Kyra finally manage to say after a moment of more incomprehensible speaking.

"Uh, forgive me but I don't see where the problem is," Gary said slowly, baffled.

"I was out with Stan and he told me that he was going to try and get elected prom king," Kyra explained. Gary didn't know why but for some reason, Kyra sounded a bit troubled if not hysterical. But why?

"Still not getting what you're trying to tell me," he admitted. "Why is Stan running for prom king and you running for prom queen a big deal?"

"It's complicated," Kyra moaned. Something about her tone made him frown.

"How long have you been on Xbox?" he asked.

"I don't know, hours?" Kyra answered.

"How many people have had breakdowns?" Gary pressed.

"Seventeen? Maybe?"

Only a couple of hours, Gary supposed. She hadn't been on that long, for her at least. She was still able to call him up so that meant she still had some control over herself. He could get through to her but he had to do this carefully.

"Can you put the controller down and focus on me?" he asked her. Before she could protest doing that, he pressed his advantage, "I want you to really pay attention to me Kyra and I don't want you distracted, okay? Just put the controller down."

There was silence on the other end of the phone and Gary held his breath, waiting for Kyra to do or say something. Then, "Fine," she sighed. "It's…down."

Gary refrained from sighing in relief. Kyra did not need to hear that from him.

"Okay, Kyra," he said, "can you tell me what's wrong? Is there something that Stan said or did that upset you?"

"I-I told you he wants me to be prom queen," Kyra said quietly into the phone.

"Uh-huh,' Gary said, urging her to go on.

"B-but I don't want t-to," Kyra finally spilled out. "I don't th-think I could go through that kind of thing!"

"Then don't," Gary told her gently.

"But what about Stan?" Kyra asked him. "He was really excited about it and I didn't want to disappoint him or anything. What if…?"

Catching on to what she was suggestion, Gary said, "I don't think he'd break up with you over something like this. If you want, I could talk to him about this? That is, if you want me to."

"Thanks but I think he'd feel more threatened or something if it came from you," Kyra said honestly, finally calming down. "I can't believe I'm letting this get to me Gary."

"I understand," Gary said. "I heard that announcement too. You can feel it in the air, this is going to be big, bigger than it needs to be. There's no doubt in my mind that someone's going to take this overboard and while Stan's the type to not do that kind of thing, there have been times…"

"But what are the odds?" Kyra asked.

"Not that good," Gary admitted. "He's levelheaded most of the time." Then feeling as it bore repeating, "Most of the time."

"So do you think it would be okay to tell Stan I don't want to go through with his idea?" Kyra asked, her worry reflecting in her voice. "I don't want him to think that…I don't want to make him mad and give him the wrong idea."

"I think if you explained it to him, he'd accept it," Gary said. "Be logical or at least reasonable. He hangs out a lot with Kyle and he's very logical."

"So his best friend may have rubbed off on him," Kyra concluded. "Thanks Gary. I…I don't know what I would have done if you weren't here for me. You're….you're my best friend."

"And you're mine too," Gary said. "Call me after it's all done, okay."

"Thank you Gary," Kyra said. "Just…thank you."

Gary hung up as he heard the dial tone, a warm feeling in his chest. He always felt this way when he helped someone and he didn't begrudge that he had to do this so late at night. Trouble didn't stop just because it was late at night.

With Kyra's new dilemma under wraps until tomorrow, Gary decided to finish what he had started earlier and go to bed. He could sure use the rest.

* * *

><p>The last thing Jake Silver expected to see at the front door of his house that morning was to see Eric Cartman obnoxiously ringing doorbell. It had been the shrill ringing that had woken him up at…Jesus Christ, the sun wasn't even up! This had better be good.<p>

"It's about time asshole!" Cartman complained. "Let me in. I'm freezing mah balls out here."

"Hell. No." Jake wasn't even going to try being nice. He liked sleeping in, even if it made him go to school late. Amendment to that, he'd only sleep in as late as he could so long as he didn't have to ride the late bus. Once was one time too many.

"What? Why the hell not?" Cartmna demanded.

"Because I hate you," Jake answered without skipping a beat.

"What the hell have I ever done to make you hate me?" Cartman demanded.

"You always call me gay or queer or homo or girly-boy or fairy or fag or butt pirate or prison bitch or—" Jake listed off before he was interrupted.

"Ay! It's not mah fault you look like a homo!" Cartman defended himself.

Narrowing his eyes, Jake slammed the door in Cartman's face…or tried to. Without his knowledge, Cartman had edged his foot into the doorway so that when he tried to shut the door, his foot prevented it from closing.

"Fuck! You almost broke my foot!" Cartman wailed.

"Go bother somebody else," Jake told him coldly.

"I tried to. None of those assholes would answer me," Cartman explained, not daring to remove his foot as an improvised door jamb.

"I can't imagine why," Jake said dryly.

"Would you listen to me you gay asshole? OW!" Cartman cried out as Jake slammed the door against his foot again.

"Fuck off," Jake stated.

"Just listen to me for one second," Cartman argued. "Can you do that? One second?"

At the rate things were going, it didn't look like Jake would be getting rid of this menace until he agreed. "One second," Jake said.

"I'm running for Prom King," Cartman began to say.

"Time's up," Jake cut in. "Get off my property."

"Not a literal second!" Cartman roared.

"You should have been clearer," Jake replied.

"Just shut up and listen. I'm running for Prom King and I need a security detail," Cartman finally decided to cut to the chase. "I have decided that you would make a great bodyguard."

After going to who knew how many other guys? That was going to win him over, Jake thought to himself sarcastically. "Why should I?" Jake asked.

"Don't you know? Being a part of a security detail is the manliest thing you can do," Cartman said, standing up straighter. "Do you know how many times a security guard is called gay? Zero times, man. People are going to think you're butch."

All Jake's thought processes stopped right then and there in order to really consider this proposal. He wracked his mind, trying to think of any time he heard anybody call a guard of any kind names that were synonymous with homosexual and couldn't come up with any. Guards were these tough guys, right? No one messed with them because they were tough and would beat the ever-loving shit out of you if you pissed them off.

Would that stop people from questioning his orientation? Because he was not gay. Totally not gay. He was the straightest person in all of South Park. Take the straightest guy here and Jake was straighter than him. Seriously. There was no way you could get any straighter than Jake Silver.

Yeah.

When he was quiet for too long, Cartman spoke up again, hoping to persuade him. "Now, before you come to a decision, just know that I have gotten all the stuff you need in order to be the best bodyguard there is. I got the Kevin Costner Bodyguard Playset which comes complete with earpiece, throwing knives, fully loaded gun and a copy of _I Will Always Love You_. Trust me, you'll have all the tools you'll need to protect me. So what do you say?"

He was a bit leery about that playset…but his answer had already been decided.

"Okay."

* * *

><p>"Es somezing on your mind, Charlie?" Christophe asked.<p>

The girl that was his best friend was silent but it wasn't the kind of silence that was shared between friends, when you knew you could stand beside said friend and say nothing yet have no need to say anything. It was an uneasy silence that seemed to emulate from the mercenary girl, one in which she was keeping whatever was bothering her to herself and unsure whether or not to share it.

In layman's terms, something was on her mind she wasn't going to share without prodding.

Trying to get anything out of the girl was almost like pulling teeth. When Charlie wanted to keep something close, it was to the chest. As much as he had tried to over the years, even a person like him who could read people like a book had trouble figuring the girl out. He wasn't like Bain who had the unique talent of getting into her head.

Thus he was left with the standby of asking what was up and then extracting it all piece by piece. Painful only in terms of the mental gymnastics and Christophe could admit that it wasn't something he looked forward to doing.

"Hm? What?" Charlie perked up, as if just noticing him. Ah, so whatever was on her mind was also making her less aware of her surroundings. It had to be something serious then. Charlie was always aware of everything around her but then again, you would be too if your brother had lost touch with reality and become obsessed with hunting you down and killing you.

"You seem a bit…out of touch," Christophe said diplomatically. "You are usually more talkative."

"And that's a problem?" Charlie scoffed. "Is it a crime for me to want to be quiet or something?"

"Yes," Christopher answered.

"Asshole," Charlie snorted though she did not hide the quirking of her lips.

"Speak to Christophe," he commanded. "Your silence unease's me."

"Why so curious?" Charlie replied.

"Why so quiet?" Christophe challenged.

"It's nothing," Charlie shrugged. And in Charlie-speak, that would mean it was something.

"Zen why is your nose scrunched up?" he pointed out. "You're eizer angry or bozered. Speak. I hear et makes you feel better eef you do."

"Not gonna give up are you?" Charlie commented.

"_Non_," Christophe answered.

"Then maybe you can tell me why everyone seems busy all of a sudden?" Charlie suggested.

"Busy? Who and how?" Christophe asked.

"Well Damien left real early today," Charlie said. "He wasn't there when I went to wake his lazy ass up. He asked me all these questions about prom yesterday too and afterwards he didn't say much, not even to try and tear me down. And on that note, the asshole is also busy for some reason."

"Ah, so es ze Bain of your existence not paying attention to you?" Christophe asked.

"The least amount since we first met," Charlie replied. "He's preoccupied and running around. He hasn't called me a whore in almost two days!"

"Ze sign of a healthy relationship," Christophe said.

"Knock it off," Charlie snapped at him. "Do you know why everyone's acting differently?"

"Well, et es prom," Christophe said. "I recall mentioning et to your boyfriend—"

"Don't call him that," Charlie cut in, frowning at him.

"—and he stops being antagonistic," Christophe continued to point out. "Perhaps zere's somezing in ze air?"

"Did they have to pick the same time or something?" Charlie sulked, looking out the passenger side window.

"Hmm, I zink there's more to zis," Christophe said. "I remember once when you would 'ave wanted no one to pay attention to you. What's different now?"

Charlie said nothing in reply but from the corner of his eye, the French descendent could see his friend's reflection in the Plexiglas window. Though the image was inversed, he recognized the look that the girl had on her face and suddenly intuition provided him with what looked like the root of everything.

"Es zis because of your parents?" he asked quietly.

Charlie jerked her head towards him in surprise but said nothing. Yes, a very sensitive topic here. He would have to tread carefully here. Pulling the car to the curb, Christophe wanted to give Charlie his full, undivided attention.

"Talk to me Charlie," he said. "Zere's something about your parents and I bet et has to do wiz what's going on at school. You know zat you can tell me anyzing."

Charlie again said nothing and looked away from him. Anybody who really knew Charlie knew that her family was always a sensitive topic. Her father murdered by her older brother, the same older brother slain in this very town, the events of the previous winter…

There was only one person who would use the issue in a provoking manner but Christophe was not that short bastard. Instead, he would try and pry it out bit by bit even though that could potentially take all day.

In his profession, Christophe didn't have a lot of friends and those he did, he took care of them as much as he could. Charlie was his closest outside of Rhiannon and so he would put in the extra effort here.

As it turned it, Charlie was not going to be very resistant this time around. Perhaps this was something she really needed to get off her chest.

"My mom was really excited last year," Charlie said softly. "She was already getting ready for prom, even though it was November. Jack didn't go to his so this would be the first one, at least that's what I understood."

"Go on," Christophe urged.

"All that shit, everything that happened after Thanksgiving," Charlie said, the words boiling out of her. "And now… It's just…"

"I zink I get et," Christophe said. "So zis was important to your mozher, _oui_?"

Charlie took in a deep breath, one that sounded like a cross between a gasp and a sob. "Not just her."

"Zen I guess…what do you want to do?" Christophe asked. "Do you want to stay home zat night?"

"Not sure yet," Charlie said as she regained her composure. "This is just like that sweet sixteen. A bitch that my birthday is practically on the same day."

"Ze day you legally become an adult in zis country is also ze same as prom, eh?" Christophe mused.

"The day after, actually," Charlie corrected.

"And you have so many fond memories of your birthday," Christophe finished. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say ze world was out to get you."

"Since when has it not?" Charlie retorted. "Sometimes I think about what things would have been like if I hadn't agreed to watch that demonspawn. It seems like I'm sitting him less and less."

"You do tend to attract psychopaths," Christophe pointed out. "Et seems to be your special talent. Perhaps you could make a career out of et."

"And do what?" Charlie drawled.

"Keel zem. Make ze world a better place," Christophe shrugged, unable to come up with something creative.

"Guess I'd have to kill you first, since you're here and all," Charlie said, relaxing into her seat.

"You wound me," Christophe teased her. He had decided to back off the topic right now, at least for the time being. It was something that even if confronted now would not be resolved right here and now. But Christophe was patient if anything. He could help Charlie come to some kind of resolution and once this all passed, they'd look back at it and he would rib her about it.

That was how these kinds of things went anyway.

He pulled away from the curb, continuing on their way towards their destination. He would continue to tease Charlie the whole way there, taking her mind off of their previous discussion. He felt confident that there would be more than enough time to bring the subject back up and get closer to putting it behind them.

Pulling up into the school's parking lot, he saw a frown mar Charlie's face but this time it was directed towards a particular car that made even him uneasy.

"What's Bain doing here already?" Charlie asked out loud, not expecting an answer.

* * *

><p>Principal Victoria looked up from the printed proposal in front of her to eye the lounging student in front of her. Bain Cynis returned her look for look. She had had…altercations with this particular student before her and forgive her for having a biased opinion of him but she was very much suspicious of him.<p>

Then again she was suspicious about the motives of many of her students but that was because she had had experience with them, especially with this particular class of seniors. Should she give him the benefit of the doubt and hear him out or should she pay him lip service, ignore him, and go about her way for the day?

No, she was too responsible for that latter choice. She'd…hear him out but she would take everything he said with a grain of salt.

Beside her desk, still standing, was one of the few people she trusted in this school who would give her reasonable advice. She would admit that at times Mr. Mackey could do some stupid things such as pass out marijuana to a third grade class but the alternative was much worse. Let's just say there was a reason why she had a seen but not heard relationship with Herbert Garrison.

"M'kay, I'm still trying to wrap my head around this," Mackey said as he looked up from his own copy of Bain's proposal.

"Take your time," Bain said, crossing his legs causally. For some reason, Principal Victoria had a feeling that that was not meant in a nice way.

"Just let me ask you this: why?" Principal Victoria asked. "These things have already been decided on."

"Are you saying that I cannot give out assistance?" Bain asked.

"Let's not kid ourselves here," the principal stated as she clasped her hands together, resting her elbows on her desk. "We all know your reputation here. You are not one to take part in any school reception. Why now? And also, why didn't you volunteer back when we were accepting people?"

"Had a lot of things taking up my attention then," Bain shrugged in answer. "It completely flew over my head. But, I would like you to hear me out first."

"We're doing that right now," Principal Victoria said.

"The past few proms have been lackluster," Bain said, "and let's not forget about that one three years ago. A disaster I'm told."

"We were there, m'kay," Mackey said. "What's your point?"

"It has not passed my attention that almost every prom committee in the past five years has been made up of female students who procrastinate until the last minute before setting up something hastily and expecting everyone to love it, the exception being three years ago when some effort was actually put into it," Bain explained. "Despite the eccentrics of this class, I believe the same pattern of laziness will hold."

"And you think putting you in charge will have a different result?" Principal Victoria asked critically. "What makes you think Wendy Testaburger won't do a good job?"

"Do you really want to leave something like this in the hands of a girl who recently led a Def Con 50 that raged about some fictional lesbian rapist?" Bain asked. "Are you even sure you want to touch that?"

"Def Con 50? What the heck is a Def Con 50?" Principal Victoria asked, puzzled.

"Well, you know he has a point," Mackey said unexpectedly. Apparently, Mackey did know what a Def Con 50 was.

"But what is a Def Con 50? What does that even mean?" Principal Victoria demanded exasperatedly.

"It's when fifty wo—girls have their periods at the same time in the same place," Mackey explained.

A terrifying thought there but… "How does that disqualify Wendy?"

"She's unstable," Bain stated in a no nonsense tone. "She's still talking about that fictional rapist. When it becomes time to do something, she will ignore it in favor of this wild goose chase. You need someone who will put this duty first over their delusions."

"Bain, many of the things you put here have already been decided upon," Principal Victoria replied. "The prom committee does not have the kind of power you think it does."

"I know," Bain said.

"It's really just for show—huh? What?" Principal Victoria blinked dumbly at the diminutive student.

"Just because a lot of my fellow…students tend to be irrational doesn't mean all of them are," Bain said. "What this proposal is more about is security and ensuring that no one brings any alcohol to 'spike the punch.'"

Victoria shared a look with Mackey. This was treading on dangerous ground here; was this student really suggesting that they reduce the risk of punch-spiking? They drank from the same bowl too! It was the only way any of them could get through this kind of night with their sanity intact.

But at the same time…they had to uphold some kind of integrity. They'd have to bring their own personal flasks to give them their much needed liquid courage.

"Is that why you suggest a change of venue?" she asked.

"During the setup, some students sneak the alcohol in, the all-female committee looking the other way. Then during the actual prom, the students can walk in without alcohol on them only to go to a planted source and then you can guess where that goes," Bain explained. "It's an art form for this town to try and sneak alcohol into prom, you see."

Which would explain why everyone got rip-roaring drunk last year.

"But why you in charge?" she asked, still skeptical.

"I just want to give my fellow students a night they will never forget," Bain replied, a creepy smile gracing his lips.

* * *

><p>Marcus was riding shotgun today and was in the middle of buckling his seatbelt as his superior slid in behind the wheel. The young officer had no idea if Barbrady was staring at him though the huskier officer did ask, "Why are you wearing that?"<p>

"Wearing what?" he asked, wondering if he made some kind of mistake.

"That," Barbrady emphasized, gesturing to the seatbelt.

Looking down at the thin strap, Marcus asked, "You mean the seatbelt?"

"Yeah. Why are you wearing it?" Barbrady asked.

"Because not wearing it is against the law?" Marcus answered hesitantly.

"It is?" Barbrady asked, astonished at that piece of information.

"You didn't know…?" Marcus asked.

"I always thought it was there for decoration," Barbrady said. "I didn't know I had to wear it!"

Marcus had a feeling this was going to be a long day.

You see, as soon as the newly minted South Park police officer had arrived and served the more senior officer, Barbrady had announced that today they were going to be patrolling. It was to not only show him around town but help him get a hang of the ropes, as Barbrady had said. Knowing so little about how things worked around here, Marcus had agreed with his superior and now they were driving into town.

"Being an officer of the peace means a lot of things," Barbrady lectured to him. "It's a hard job but you've got to be hard right back. A lot of people think that in a small town there isn't a lot for the law to do, well they're wrong. This ain't no Podunk little town."

Marcus nodded at the appropriate times, going along with whatever Barbrady was saying.

"You have to have pretty thick skin or else these people pretty much walk all over you," Barbrady continued. "Sometimes upholding the law is messy but you get by, one day at a time. I remember this one time I was held against my will in someone's basement and had my pants removed. You better believe I felt pretty silly there."

"Wow," Marcus said, eyes wide. Perhaps he had underestimated just what his superior officer had been through. He had almost forgotten that Barbrady must have had this job for years so he had to have seen and been through a lot of stuff. Sure the man had his lapses, what with the seatbelt incident earlier, but Barbrady had to have a well of stories within that head of his.

"It can be a thankless job at times," Barbrady said. "People spit at you, call you names sometimes, force you to learn to read, so it's lucky I have things like mace, my nightstick, and my gun. People pretty much respect you once you pull one of those things out."

Marcus frowned. "Huh?"

"Otherwise, it can get pretty boring, you know, when nothing's going on," Barbrady continued to babble. "At least now I have you around to talk to."

_All units, all units, five-twelve at 635 Avenue de los Mexicanos. This means you Barbrady._

"Copy that dispatch," Barbrady responded into the radio, turning on the sirens and pressing down on the accelerator.

Marcus' frown deepened. "Dispatch? I didn't see anyone else at the station…"

"That's because Dispatch moved to be with those Park County police officers," Barbrady explained. "Something about having to commit himself if he had to get my coffee one more time. Anyway, anything in the SPPD's jurisdiction goes straight to me so hold on to your britches. We got a live one."

If there was one good thing that could be said about Barbrady, the guy was a good driver when he was going fast. He knew exactly where he was going, knew when to slow down and how much he needed to when taking turns Marcus noted that he was taking the five-twelve seriously and if his memory served right, they were responding to a domestic disturbance.

In almost no time at all, Barbrady pulled up to a small, green-colored home that Marcus had to stare at for a moment to wonder who would live in such a small and ramshackle place.

"I want you to stand back and watch while I handle this," Barbrady instructed him. "These domestic disturbance can get out of hand real quickly so I'm also going to need you to back me up if you have to. Can you do that?"

"Sure," he said as he unbuckled himself.

He didn't leave the car straight away as he had to help Barbrady who had tried to exit the car only to forget that his seatbelt was still on. How the older man almost choked himself with it, Marcus did not know but he leaned over to help untangle his superior. After the appropriate thanks and collar fixing was done, Barbrady took the lead as he headed to the small house.

Marcus noted how quiet it was; perhaps the disturbance had passed?

Barbrady knocked on the door politely and waited until a scruffy-looking man with a handlebar mustache and red hat that had the word SCOTCH spelt out on it. The man's left eye was visibly swollen, a black eye forming around it

"What seems to be the problem here?" Barbrady drawled.

"Oh…uh…well nothing really," the man said. "Just a little spat with the, uh, with the wife. Kinda got loud, I guess."

"You guess huh?" Barbrady said.

"Well, yeah," the man shrugged.

Marcus raised an eyebrow as he crossed his arms over his chest, continuing to lean against the police car. If that black eye was anything to go back, things got more than a bit 'loud'. It was obvious, even an idiot could see—

"Well, if there's nothing going on, I suppose I ought to be leaving," Barbrady said. "Sorry about knocking on your door."

Marcus suddenly had the urge to pinch the bridge of his noise.

"That's okay, I suppose," the man shrugged right before an empty beer bottle shattered against the side of his head, forcing him to stagger.

"Get outta here ya piece of shit!" shouted a much shorter, red-haired woman in a green shirt that had the words "I'm with stupid" and an arrow printed on it. "Stupid asshole gets fired this morning and comes home drunk! I oughta kick the shit out of you!"

"Oh yeah, bitch?" the man shouted back before the woman struck him with her fist.

"Now hold on here," Barbrady said, holding his hands up. "What seems to be the problem?"

"Shouldn't we stop them?" Marcus called out worriedly, pushing off of the car.

"No, no, these things tend to work themselves out," Barbrady said. "Let's let them work it out of their systems first before we arrest their asses."

"Goddamn it, you got me in the balls you bitch!" the man bellowed as he clutched at his crotch.

"You'll be lucky that's the only thing I'll get!" the man's wife screamed him as she decked him again.

"Christ! I think you broke my goddamn nose!"

"Yep, any minute now, they'll work it out of their systems," Barbrady said as everything faded to black, going to a commercial break.

* * *

><p>Author's Note: I mean no disrespect to Whitney Houston, R.I.P. and whatnot, but to be fair, she didn't write that song. The royalties go to Dolly Parton who released it back in the 60s or 70s. And if it's too soon, well, I never mentioned her by name so don't be throwing me Bill Maher anger at me either. On another note, some of Barbrady's monologue is almost word for word from the Chickenlover episode. Yes, the chapter ends on a COPS spoof, like it hasn't been done before either.<p> 


	11. And the Nominees Are

Author's Note: Check out the author's note below. It has important information with relevance to this story but it won't mean much until after you read this chapter. Also, I think this is the most OOC Bain has ever been. Still, as the story progresses, we'll see if it truly is out of character or not. Enjoy.

Disclaimer: I do not own South Park.

Warning: language

And the Nominees Are…

When Friday finally arrived, there was a sense of "finally!" among the high school's student body. At the same time, the air was thick with tension and the general feeling of it being the calm before the storm was prevalent.

There was a feeling that whatever had been building up over the past couple of days was about to break today of all days.

At least that was how Wendy felt.

Living in this Stan-less world had shown her that there was so much more going on than she had ever dreamed. When there wasn't any "going through the motions" to distract her, she had realized just how little control she had.

Was that why she had latched on to trying to find that lesbian rapist that had tried to break into her room? To give herself something to do in which she didn't need to depend on the anchor that she knew as Stan Marsh? Sounded like a good theory.

When the morning announcements came on, instructing all seniors to go to the school gym for an important assembly, Wendy had rolled her eyes at it like everyone else had. Was the school finally responding to Cartman's ad? About a couple days late. She would have expected someone to explain to them that you couldn't hijack the intercom system for your own abuses.

Then again, Thursday had passed uneventful.

That was unless you counted how many people seemed to be busy. Kenny and Kyle could be seen huddled together, always talking with one another over something that Wendy cared not to listen to. Cartman could alternately be seen trailing after a girl Wendy knew as Brianna Vargas and then later would be hanging around a much smaller but spiffily dressed boy who seemed to be trying to act like a Secret Service agent. She had also watched as Stan followed after his current girlfriend Kyra to some secluded corner and a while later watched as Stan walked away scowling but at the same time subdued. The Mormon kid was nearby so…was Kyra breaking up with Stan? She didn't think so and thus would not voice any suspicions.

Just saying something like that would get people in an uproar.

But those were only a handful of things. A bunch of the girls were making themselves scarce and when Wendy did see them, they were always in the same kind of group, each of which seemed have Gwendolyn Long and Brittany Love as their centers. Then there was Roxi and Mari; the raven-haired girl had begun to realize that she had kinda been neglecting those two for some time. When she did see the pair, Roxi was excited about something and Mari looked like she wanted to hang herself. Which was pretty much same old, same old with those two.

She made it a point to sit by them in the bleachers while the rest of their class swarmed in, people trying to sit by their friends and raise the overall decibel level.

"Hey girls," she greeted, taking a seat right next to Mari. "What's up?"

Instead of answering, Mari stood up and sat on Wendy's other side, using her as some kind of barrier between her and Roxi. Wendy ended up sliding into Mari's vacated seat, Mari groaning as she slid into Wendy's previous seat.

"Sounds like you're not getting along," Wendy commented with a slight frown.

"What makes you say that?" Roxi asked.

"Whatever you do, don't accept her at face value," Mari groaned. "She's driving me nuts."

"Since when?" Roxi inquired.

"Since you were born," Mari answered stiffly.

"Trouble in paradise?" Wendy asked.

"You have no idea," Mari grunted.

"You wouldn't be interested in it," Roxi said quickly, for some reason looking away from Wendy now.

"You guys aren't upset with me, are you?" Wendy asked. "I've been…busy recently."

"Everyone and their dog knows that," Mari replied. Then with a smirk, she added, "Or maybe I should say _cat_."

Roxi winced at that for some unknown reason.

"Why a cat?" Wendy asked, wondering why Mari felt the need to say it.

"It's nothing!" Roxi said quickly. "I had a…thing with a cat. That's right! Traumatized. Yeah."

"What happened?" Wendy asked, concerned. Recalling Roxi's incident with a certain rapist…how insensitive could Mari be? And how could she, Wendy, forget that Roxi had been raped? She was such a terrible friend!

But as quickly as Wendy had asked, Roxi had answered, "Nothing!" Oh, how much she must be suffering! She was such a brave soul for still coming to school and pretending that everything was all right.

"You know you can talk to me Roxi," Wendy said, placing her hand on top of Roxi's. "It isn't easy going through what happened to you but just know that I'll be here every step of the way."

Behind her, Mari was snorting, trying to hold in her snickers as if she found this whole business hilarious. It was so rude of Mari to do that. Did she really see rape as something to laugh at? She bet Mari wouldn't be laughing if this thing had happened to her!

"Yeah…" Roxi winced again, throwing a glare at Mari as if warning her to shut the fuck up.

"You know what, I think I'll hang out with you guys more," Wendy said, becoming resolute. "No, I don't think, I will. To show that I'm really sorry about ignoring you guys."

"You don't have to do that," Roxi said, her voice cracking. "We kinda have stuff planned and…"

"Can I join?" Wendy asked.

Mari was struggling not to burst out in laughter. Roxi looked like she was in so much discomfort. All of it made Wendy more determined to make it up to them.

A loud screech quite similar to someone holding a microphone up to a speaker interrupted the dramatic moment, along with countless conversations as everyone held their hands up to their ears, many crying out in agony.

"See I got your attention," Mr. Garrison said into the mike. "Now all of you shut up and pay attention. The principal wants to tell y'all something."

So the screech really was a microphone being held up to a speaker. Only Mr. Garrison would use that kind of torture to shut them up.

Principal Victoria eyes their social studies teacher warily as she took the mike away from them.

"Right. All right, seniors, I know what time of the year it is and just because you're about to graduate doesn't mean you get to slack off," Principal Victoria said. "However, that is not why you have all been called here today. Instead, you are all here so that we can discuss the other thing that's on your minds. Prom. This is going to be your senior prom and I know as do the rest of the faculty that you're all excited about it."

Okay, now it was making sense. They were going to go over some rules ahead of time, maybe pass out some pamphlets, announce other stuff. For some reason, Wendy felt that there was something that she was forgetting. Something important.

"By now, I believe everyone here has heard that advertisement that came on the other day," Principal Victoria continued, shooting a pointed look in the general area of Cartman. "That, along with the turnout of people signing up so that you can vote for them to be your Prom Queen and King, has prompted us to close signup early and announce right here and now who your choices are. Now, give a big welcome to the student who has graciously volunteered to be in charge of Prom setup."

Wendy frowned at that. Last she checked, the school had already asked for student volunteers to form a prom committee and she was the head of it. Why wasn't she down there?

When the dark form of Bain Cynis walked across the gym's floor to accept the mike from the principal, Wendy knew that something was incredibly wrong.

* * *

><p>Stan was down but at least he wasn't alone. He would have liked to sit next to Kyra, maybe try to change her mind but he hadn't been able to see her. So he ended up sitting with Kyle and Kenny to whom he spilled his woes.<p>

"You're a fucking pussy," Cartman said, flinching submissively when Brianna looked at him.

"Screw you," Stan muttered before turning to Kyle hopefully.

"So she doesn't want to run for prom queen, what's the big deal?" Kyle asked.

"What's the big deal? Haven't you heard?" Stan asked, flabbergasted at his best friend's nonchalant reaction.

"Sweet Moses, don't tell me you all are privy to something I haven't even heard about," Kyle groaned out loud. "If there's some kind of rumor or fad going around, tell me about it before it becomes important. Please."

"It's a wonder why you Jews have so much cash," Cartman sneered. "You're all behind the times."

"Fuck you fatass!" Kyle glared at his eternal nemesis.

"Keep it down," Kenny warned with a smirk on his face. "What Stan here is talking about is the fact that whoever becomes Prom King is guaranteed to get laid the night of prom, most likely with whoever's Prom Queen."

"I've already heard about that," Kyle rolled his eyes.

A pale, slender hand with claw-like fingernails patted the Jew's shoulder condolingly. "So have I," a mischievous Damien said, his red eyes trained solely on Kyle from his seat on the bleacher behind them.

"And can you try to lay off the creepiness?" Kyle frowned at the Antichrist.

"I can only try," Damien replied.

Eye twitching in irritation that the others' attention was not directed towards him anymore, Stan reinserted himself into the conversation. "That's only half of it," he grounded it. "The other half is that whoever's king and queen go on to get married."

"They do what?" Kenny straightened up, looking at him with shocked blue eyes.

"You lie!" Cartman accused him.

"So you were hoping Kyra would run so that you and her would win and get married?" Kyle hazarded. "Sappy. Better hope you don't win."

"Might as well root for me," Kenny said as he slumped back into his usually laidback posture.

"Like hell! I'm still gonna fucking win this!" Stan boasted.

They were briefly interrupted when there was a loud screech and all fell silent as Garrison reprimanded them. Great, now it was going to be boring. Hopefully someone would start talking to their friends, giving others the balls to also start talking, creating a progression where everyone would be talking over what the principal was trying to tell them.

Then Stan wouldn't have to sit here bored and wanting to confess his insecurity to his two very good friends. Emphasis on the word two.

Before he was even aware of it, a scratchy yet velvety voice began to echo from the speakers and he perked up, leaving the stupor that came from years and years of listening to the same person over and over again to listen to a voice he rarely if ever heard before.

Then he spotted the voice's speaker.

"Class of 2012, allow me to take this moment to say that it's an honor to be the head of this year's prom committee," a teen in a black trenchcoat said, his sharp eyes trailing over the seated crowd of seniors like they were all slabs of meat on the butcher's block about to be cleaved. "I promise that this year's prom will be a night that you will remember for years to come. I guarantee it."

"Oh. Shit," Cartman said as he stared at the teen in what looked like horror but Stan couldn't be too sure about it. "Not that Bain asshole. Anybody but him."

The name sparked immediate recognition in Stan as the memories of cramming a short amnesic teen into a trashcan and all in all making his life a living hell returned to the front of his mind. Recalling that same teen also smashed his face into a mirror reminded him that this was also the last person you wanted to fuck with.

"Now, I have here in my hand the list of names of all the students who have signed up to be this year's prom royalty," Bain continued, holding up a piece of paper in his hand for all to see. "Listen well and pay attention because you are about to see your choices, starting with this year's potential Prom Queens. This is brought to you by Black Market. Panicking over what you're going to wear to Senior Prom? Worried about whether you can get a limo? Need kegs for the post-prom party? Find this and more at Black Market and if you act now, you can get the once-in-a-lifetime prom package all for the cheap price of $39.99. Remember, for all your prom needs, there's no place like the Black Market."

Advertisement aside, what was up with this? Stan wondered to himself. He tensed his body, ready for anything unexpected to happen, fully expecting the worst to happen. What was going on here was wrong, so very wrong. Why was someone, of whom Stan only had bad memories of, down there acting so normal? It was obvious that a few of the adults were also watching Bain, fearing that whatever was happening was about to blow up in their faces.

"If the nominees would come down here when their names are called, it will make this all much smoother," Bain said into the mike as he looked at the paper in his hand. "Hold your applause until everyone has been called. Now, your nominees for this year's Prom Queen are…Bebe Stevens…" Bain trailed off, looking at all of them as if waiting for Bebe to stand up and walk down onto the gymnasium floor. "Bebe Stevens, if you would please come down here…"

After what seemed to be a tense moment, Bebe finally stood up from where she sat in the crowd of seniors and made her way to the floor, not taking her eyes off Bain for a second. Though Stan was not close enough to the figures on the floor, he could tell that Bain was giving Bebe a smile and from where the jock sat it looked…normal.

Looking away from Bebe and back to his list, Bain continued, "Gwendolyn Ashley Long." Unlike Bebe, the girl called Gwendolyn Ashley Long stood up—hey it was Wendy 2! Oh, that's right, she had told him she was…damn. Well, regardless of how bummed out he felt, Wendy 2 moved at a much slower pace to the gym floor than Bebe had, looking around to see if there was some kind of trap waiting for her.

"If you could pick it up, please," Bain said, remaining polite. "The longer you take, the less time you have for this period, the more homework you will have, so don't dawdle."

It just didn't sound right that he spoke all polite-like. From what Stan knew, the guy should be cursing or calling every girl he saw a cunt or a bitch or a whore. Bain gestured for Wendy 2 to take a spot right next to Bebe who still was eyeing Bain cautiously.

"Bonnie Snyder," Bain announced. This time the girl who was announced move quickly down to the floor, allowing Bain to continue listing off each and every girl on the list. "Heidi Turner. Brittany Love. Violet Robbins. Ella Robinson. Aurora Neilson." When nothing happened to either of the girls coming out, each one became more and more confident though all of them were watching Bain like hawks, just waiting for the other foot to fall.

It hadn't yet but it was still wise to watch.

"I don't know how this name got on here," Bain said unexpectedly, peering at the paper in his hand. Shrugging, he said, "The final nominee for Prom Queen: Kyle Broflovski."

The silence was so thick that you could cut it with a knife. And then…

"BWA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA!" Cartman roared in laughter.

Kyle turned his fiery glare towards the fat teen, green eyes almost demonic in their animosity. "You did this? Fuck you fat ass!"

"No, no, ha ha ha ha, I wish I did!" Cartman continued to chortle.

"I'll fucking kill you!" Kyle roared as he tried to throw himself at his sworn enemy, Cartman's painful death held back as both Stan and Kenny restrained him.

"Is there a problem up there?" Bain asked, peering up at them. "Kyle Broflovski, please come down to the floor."

By now quite a few people were experiencing schadefreude at Kyle's expense (but wasn't that always the way?) and a handful were not making an attempt to cover their amusement. When Bain spoke, Kyle's anger had a new target that was directed solely on the short teen.

Now that Kyle's attention wasn't on Cartman anymore, Stan too was able to look away and got a good look at the adults who were still around, many looking uncomfortable but no one doing anything. They had to have seen that so-called list in Bain's hand and if they had…then did that mean…?

"This is bullshit!" Kyle yelled angrily as he violently shrugged off the hold that he and Kenny had him in, rampaging out of the bleachers with the sole intent of saving whatever masculinity he had left and possibly sending the little fucker who had started all this to the intensive care ward.

"It's quite real," Bain said as Kyle drew near, holding out the list to the angry Jew. Kyle snatched it away irritably and Stan could see his best friend reading down the paper. How Stan knew when Kyle reached his name, Stan could only say it was from years and years of experience of watching Kyle and knowing all his physical tics. He could just tell when Kyle froze up even though there was some distance between them and his previous question seemed to have been answered.

"Are you satisfied?" Bain asked pleasantly, still audible from the speakers.

"I'll contest this!" Kyle declared, glaring at the surprisingly shorter teen. Kyle wasn't tall like many of the other guys in school but when you were still shorter than one of the shortest people Stan knew, then Goddamn you were short.

"Until you do, stand aside," Bain ordered, Kyle amazingly obeying this one time. Turning towards their previously ignored audience, Bain said, "Everyone who gets off on cross-dressing laughs now."

There was still some laughter, Cartman's being the loudest, but once Bain's words were registered, many people shut up as quickly as they could, now pissed off too. Cartman continued laughing until he was elbowed in the gut by Brianna but the damage to his own reputation had been done though Cartman had yet to realize it.

"Now that you're all good children again, let us continue," Bain said, pausing for a moment when Principal Victoria came up to him and said something in his ear. As soon as their principal pulled away, Bain continued as if nothing had happened, "The nominees for Prom King are: Eric Cartman."

Standing up proudly, Cartman made a show of leaving his seat, head held high and revealing his double chins. "Thank you, thank you!" he called out to his supposedly fawning fans. As he approached Bain, he held out a hand for the mike, expecting to be allowed to say something.

When the mike was not forthcoming… "Hand it over, midget," Cartman demanded.

A death glare was his answer.

"Later then," Cartman said, trying to look away as casually as possible.

Without another pause, "Stan Marsh."

Deciding not to be as dramatic as his friends had been, Stan stood up as calmly as possible and made his way out of the bleachers. Perhaps out of all the nominees thus far, his was the one with the least amount of fanfare but then again, he wasn't planning on doing anything to make this anymore painful as it already was.

"Kenny McCormick," Bain continued to list off and now that Stan was in closer proximity to the shorter teen, he found that he wanted nothing more than to put a lot of space between the two of them. A mile sounded good. "Craig Tucker." Huh? What? Craig? But—"Clyde Donovan." Wait a minute, go back to—"Odd…anyone here who chose to call themselves Damien the Antichrist?"

Stan raised both of his eyebrows at that and before he or anyone else knew it, Damien was literally standing there with them on the gym floor. There had been no grand standing up from his seat or smug march down from the bleachers so that everyone could see him and be awed. No, the Antichrist had apparently teleported himself there and was it him…no it wasn't him. Damien was standing oddly close to Kyle and giving him a knowing leer.

By now everyone had noticed the unexpected addition after looking among themselves for this sixth candidate and now the murmurs were growing louder. Bain looked peeved, as if someone around here who was not to be named was stealing his show. And they pretty much were.

"So glad you could join us," Bain said sarcastically before turning back to their audience and laying his "charm" on them. "Give an applause for our nominees, my fellow peers. For the next couple of weeks, they are going to be all over the place hoping to get your vote. Make them work for it."

It was a slow applause, many unsure but eventually they were getting over their uneasiness of the unexpected turn of events. Forcing Bain out of his mind, Stan threw out a smile, hoping to charm some votes right here and now and gave a wave. At this point, the game was on.

He wasn't the only person trying this tactic but Cartman decided to add a verbal part to it. "You guys all vote for me! I'll make this school a better place and—ay! Did that fucker call me a crossdresser?"

And now he was reminded that it was going to be a long time before prom…

* * *

><p>Kyle was furious, the understatement of the year. As soon as Principal Victoria took over and went over the more boring details of what prom was going to include, he had tried to go up to her and demand he be taken off the ballot.<p>

"I'll see what I can do Kyle," the principal had promised him but that wasn't the guarantee he had been looking for. Why the hell she wouldn't say "consider it done" went beyond him for a moment until he figured out almost a minute later just who was responsible for this humiliation.

"You!" Kyle hissed with pure venom in his voice. "You did this!"

"Why so surprised?" Damien smirked at him, his hands tucked firmly into his pockets.

"I don't give a shit who the fuck you are, I'm going to rip your fucking balls off!" Kyle bellowed as students were exiting the gym, ignoring the drama.

"Now don't be like that," Damien said, suddenly real close to him, the few feet that had once separated them gone. "I just wanted to test the rumors."

"The marriage rumor, that's the one you're talking about," Kyle said through gritted teeth. "You do realize that most states don't recognize gay marriage."

"You really think I care about that? Besides, whether they know it or not, all Republicans are in Hell's pocket," Damien said nonchalantly. "When Hell needs shit done on Earth, use the Republicans. That's what my father's ex-boyfriend Kevin once said."

"Do you really think that's going to appease me?" Kyle demanded. Then a thought occurred to him. "Wait, there's more isn't there… Are you threatening the school faculty so they don't take me off the ballot?"

"What does it matter?" Damien asked.

"I swear to God and whoever else might listening, I am going to fucking hurt you," Kyle seethed.

"That doesn't sound right," Damien frowned. "Isn't the mortal phrase supposed to be kill? Not hurt?"

"I'm not stupid enough to think I can kill you," Kyle rolled his eyes. "Hurt you, as in physical pain, yes. If I can't then I'll _find_ a way."

"I know you want me to be scared but I'm getting turned on by this kind of talk," Damien said into his ear.

A sharp elbow to the gut and he was away from the Antichrist, glaring at the immortal who had an arm around his bruised stomach. "You pull anymore of this shit and any hope you have of getting back together is gone! I fucking swear it!" Without waiting for a reply, Kyle spun around and marched away, his anger in no way lessened. He did not notice that at that point, Charlie had swooped in on Damien and was demanding to know what the hell he thought he was doing.

He needed to hurt something, or at least break something. Otherwise he was going to be steaming for the rest of the day and the few looks he had already gotten from many of his classmates were infuriating him even further.

He felt a tug at his sleeve and he directed a deadly glare at whoever had provoked his wrath. Violet jumped back, visibly shaken by the fury in his gaze but still retaining some concern for him.

"K-K-Kyle? Are you all right?" she stuttered shyly and quivering in her little shoes.

Closing his eyes for a moment and putting a tenuous leash on his anger, he answered, "Now is not really a good time, um, Violet."

"I-I-I understand," Violet said shyly, looking away from him. "I w-w-was surprised t-t-t-too. I was kinda hoping you would sign up for king."

"I didn't want to sign up at all," Kyle grumbled. He frowned when he saw her wince at that. "Is something wrong?"

"Oh! It's nothing," Violet said quickly, not looking up at him but giving the impression that she was embarrassed about something.

"Look, I'm sorry for being rude here," Kyle said, looking away from the smaller girl. "I'm just really pissed off at this sorry excuse for a joke."

"What if I try to run for Prom King?" Violet asked, looking up at him with large brown eyes. "Then maybe you won't feel lonely or embarrassed."

"You don't have to do that!" Kyle exclaimed. "I'll just…I'll figure something out. You don't have to do anything! Really!"

"But…" Violet protested but her protest died off as she could not come up with anything to reason with him.

"It's kind of you, really," Kyle said, "but I don't want to do anything to mess up your plans or anything so…I'll take care of this myself."

"Well…um," the girl bit her lower lip as she shifted her weight from one foot to another. To Kyle, it appeared like she wanted to ask him something. He waited patiently, or at least as patiently as he could when he was still pissed off at how everything went earlier.

"Yes?" he asked.

"Would you like to do something? Together?" she asked, her question, or questions in this case, coming out quickly.

Huh, that was bold of her, he thought to himself. And he was flattered. Really. He couldn't recall a time when a girl had asked him that but that also could have been because it had been a long time since a girl had asked him anything of this nature. How was he going to answer? What about Damien?

That soured his thought process. What _about_ Damien? It was because of him that he was in this mess! And what did he owe him? They weren't together! Despite the few dates that Damien had managed to wheedle out of him, Kyle did not see them as exclusive. And hadn't that asshole said he could play around?

Why couldn't he be selfish? Well, he might as well try it out with Violet here! She seemed sweet enough a girl. Yeah, that sounded like a good idea. No, a great idea!

"Okay," he said, taking in how the girl brightened up…and held a hand up to block some of the intense light that was reflecting off her teeth.

"Really? You want to?" she asked, sounding as if all of her dreams had come true.

"Yeah," he answered her. "Do you have anything in mind?"

* * *

><p>With their plans made, Violet left the impromptu meeting feeling like she was on top of the world.<p>

Perhaps spending all that time in MUFFDIVER had helped her gain the courage to finally approach her crush and ask him out. It was a great feeling and the fact that she was going out on a date! With Kyle! It was so intoxicating to someone like her.

She had had no idea when or how it started but it could be said that one day she happened to look up and fall in love with the Jewish minority. At least, that's the best that Violet could come up with. But that did nothing to weaken how ecstatic she was. The day when she could at least get a date with Kyle Broflovski had finally come and she felt like nothing could cast a dark cloud on this moment.

Thank you Wendy 2 and all you MUFFDIVERs out there! Without your encouragement, this moment could not have been made possible!

With a giggle, she turned around and found herself running into someone who had been standing right behind her without her notice.

"Oh! Excuse me! I'm sorry!" she apologized as she looked up at the person she had run into.

Hey, it was that kid! The one that called himself Damien the Antichrist! What was he doing behind her? And why was he looking at her like that? It was like he was studying a bug or something that was supposed to be beyond his notice. No one had ever looked at her like that before and it really made her nervous.

"Um…yes?" she squeaked when the Damien kid said nothing.

Then… "You finally decided to make your move, hmm?" His voice was so high pitched, something that she didn't expect from a boy his age. His red eyes had narrowed and it made her uneasy.

"Sorry…?" she hazard, trying desperately to come up with anything that could possibly explain why he was looking at her with such animosity.

"A doe, eh?" Damien said, his eyes lighting up as if in recognition. "A very docile creature has seen fit to try and move in on what I have already claimed? Despite the fact that you do not anatomically have them, you have balls."

That was quite an impressive yet crude vocabulary there!

"I…don't know what you're talking about," she said, blushing slightly in embarrassment.

"Do what you want now but know that Kyle will never be yours to have," Damien stated as if his words were some kind of decree.

Kyle? What about Kyle?

"What do you mean?" she asked.

"If there is one thing we have in common, it is that we both have eyes for the same person," Damien said. Eyes for…? Wait, did that mean…? "This fling will not stand in my way, little mortal. Have your fun while you still can."

Now, Violet was the type of person who liked to see the best in people. No matter who they were or what they had done in their past, she preferred to look past all that stuff and see the inner good that she knew was in there.

However…that trusting nature, whether people knew it or not, had a limit and where Kyle was concerned…

She had never imagined that this would have been possible but it seemed like she had competition for Kyle's affections! And it was with another boy! A curious turn of events but no. Just no. Who did this Damien think he was? She could only see the arrogance he was projecting and the hostility he was radiating made so much more sense now.

What were the odds that this was some kind of LESBIAN ploy? Oh, Wendy 2—excuse her, Gwendolyn, Ella, and the others would definitely need to hear about this. She hadn't expected much from their rivals but this was low, even for them!

"Thank you, I will!" she told the boy cheekily, the boy blinking at how upfront she was being. "And you know what, I'll have so much fun with Kyle that he'll want to be my boyfriend! Snooze, you lose!"

Damien narrowed his eyes at her to the point that they were practically slits. "It isn't wise to poke dragons, mortal."

"Well, you're just being a sore loser!" she retorted.

"Tell me something I don't know," Damien replied with a smirk. "I have no illusions of what I am."

"_Goodbye_," Violet stated, placing an emphasis on her one word sentence and went around the demonic blockade. She had never met a person she didn't like but today, she felt like she finally met that person.

Don't think like that Violet! You're just letting him get to you. Ignore him and focus on the time you're going to spend with Kyle…after you tell the rest of MUFFDIVER. They would be able to run interference if someone unwelcomed showed up, not that she would need it but she had a feeling. Not a very strong feeling but a feeling nonetheless.

She was going to have a good time with Kyle, she told herself. She was going to enjoy it and who knew, perhaps they might be able to go further. Maybe getting involved in this whole prom election thing hadn't been such a bad idea after all.

* * *

><p>It was barely second period with the second interruption of that day occurred and Kenny was proud to say that it had nothing to do with Cartman this time. Nope it was all him, with Kyle's help naturally. And Ike's.<p>

The three of them had spent most of the past couple of days coming up with this though the little assembly they had earlier had been unexpected. Still, maybe it was good thing that this little thing was going to be shown after his candidacy had been affirmed. And yes, he was using big words there, words he had picked up from both Kyle and Ike. A bit of a shame that a kid practically four years younger than him could teach him new words but Kenny had always been a bit shameless.

So when the TV monitors that were installed in every classroom, relics left over from Cartman's stint as the morning announcement presenter, he knew exactly what was about to happen.

"What in the name of Shakespeare's balls is it now?" Dr. Gunn demanded as he glared at the monitor, pissed off that he had been interrupted in the middle of one of his "informative" lectures.

The sound of bass and a keyboard set the mood as the words McCormick and 2012 faded onto the screen, the image of a mustached man standing at the back of a miscellaneous building looked straight into the camera that was just barely shaking.

Not bad for a handheld, Kenny had to admit. Ike certainly knew his cinematography or whatever it really was.

"_Mark Block here_," the mustached man introduced himself. "_Since yesterday, I have been the face of the McCormick Prom King Campaign. Tomorrow is one day closer to prom night. I really believe that Kenny McCormick will put the High back into South Park High School just like Herman Cain would in Washington and if I didn't believe that, I wouldn't be here making this crappy advertisement. We've run a campaign like nobody has ever seen, except for Herman Cain's, but then South Park High School has never seen a candidate like Kenny McCormick, except for Herman Cain._

"_We need you to get involved as together we can do this, we can take this school back._" The screen then changed to Mark Block with a cigarette in his mouth, taking a big puff on it and taking it out and doing so without taking his eye off the camera just as the lyrics _I am America_ began playing.

The screen blacks out for a second and then shows Kenny's handsome mug turning towards the camera and slowing giving a sexy, sure-to-make-girls-wet-themselves-just-by-looking-at-it smile. Beside him, the words Kenny McCormick, Prom King, and 2012 were edited in as if floating in midair.

Without taking his eyes of the TV monitor, Kenny knew that the girls that were in this classroom were hot and bothered. In fact, one whose boob size he rated at size B point eight was rubbing her thighs against each other, as if trying to create some friction.

Heh, enough friction to state a fire…

"What the hell kind of bullshit is that?" Dr. Gunn roared at the screen. "The production quality is crap, it doesn't tell you anything, and worst of all, it promotes smoking! Of all the gall!"

Eh, couldn't please everyone.

Now, if only he could have seen Cartman's face when this had come on. He wasn't the only one now with a campaign out now.

* * *

><p>Things were getting heated throughout the school by the time lunch arrived but Bain did not find himself filling his stomach. Instead, only minutes before his class was to let out, he was called in to see the principal.<p>

No other word on what it was about but he wasn't concerned about it. He was sure that either the bitch who was his predecessor was bitching up a storm or the announcement that he was in charge of putting together prom had ruffled more feathers than he had realized.

Whatever the case, he wasn't going anywhere. The position he had managed to wretch out of female hands was too important to his plans. He couldn't afford to lose it just yet. Not until everything was set up and it would be too late to do anything about it could he surrender his position.

Taking his seat in front of Principal Victoria's desk, he waited for her to share with him the reason why he was having to skip out on his midday meal.

"What do you know about that video?" Principal Victoria asked, not bothering to give him a standard greeting. No "hello," no "how are you," no "do you know why you're here."

"Caught me off guard just as it has you," Bain answered. "Why? Do you think I had something to do with it?"

"At the moment, there is nothing to say that you had anything to do with it," Principal Victoria admitted.

"Then why have you called me in here?" Bain asked through he was more tempted to demand for an answer than ask for it.

"Both you and I know how…dramatic this particular class of students can be," Principal Victoria explained. "Personally, I'd like to nip this all in the butt fast. I've never dreamed that anyone would try to politicize something like prom and especially in this way!"

That's what she was concerned about, eh? Bain would admit that while he should have expected something like this to happen, he had nevertheless been caught off guard by it all the same. Still, he had already begun thinking of ways on how to possibly use it. There was always a silver lining in things; you just had to look for it.

"I am curious how someone was able to find Mark Block," Bain said, "but I doubt there's a way to nip this in the butt. With someone as…politically sensitive as Eric Cartman, he'll bring in outside forces to insure that he's not, how do you say, being oppressed. Free speech and all."

"That is true," Principal Victoria acknowledged.

"What about trying to regulate it?" Bain suggested.

"Regulate it?" Principal Victoria repeated.

"If left to its own devices, this whole prom election will spin out of control," Bain explained. "Instead of trying to stifle it, control it. Try and limit the damage so that the mess isn't worse than it can be."

"Go on," the principal urged. She was practically drinking this all up.

"This is also an election year, correct?" Bain mused. "Claim this is an…educational experience, getting your students who will be eligible to vote ready for November by giving them experience of the political process."

"That sounds overly complicated but it just might work," the principal said. "But if this is going to be anything like real politics…"

"Just tell them that if they want to put up ads or do debates or whatever it is they want, they have to put up the capital and materials themselves," Bain advised. "Say that you are in no way supporting nor opposing a student. Take no sides. Let them battle each other and you come out relatively unscathed."

"This is insane," Principal Victoria muttered to herself.

"But insane enough to work," Bain replied smoothly. "Think of the alternative."

The principal visibly shuddered at that thought. That was how Bain knew he had her.

"Alright, we'll do it your way but only if you will be the one responsible if anything goes wrong," Principal Victoria agreed while added a condition of her own.

That gave Bain pause. Huh, he figured that she would have just accepted his worldly inspired solution at face value. This meant that he was going to have to interact with all those morons, cretins, cunts, and whores and he would have no choice. He could think of no worse Hell other than the one he was already destined for.

But what other choice did he have? If everything was to go the way he wanted them…

"Very well," he said, his agreement forced.

"I do not envy your position," Principal Victoria told him. "For what it's worth, good luck."

Now he saw; this was for forcing his way into that cursed prom committee. Well, two would play this game!

"Is there anything else that you needed to speak about?" he asked, doing his best not to show that he was having to force the question out. He did not like having to submit himself to deferring to her but anything to get her off his back and unaware.

"Other that shoring up the prom budget?" the principal replied. "I hope you have some ideas for that, by the way."

Ah, back to the issue of money, the same problem he kept running into. "I'm sure I'll think of something to sure up the treasury," he said. "If you're low, you can always go to Black Market."

"The last thing I want to do," Principal Victoria muttered, looking away for a second. "Anyway, I hope you do come up with some ideas quick. Otherwise…"

"I understand," Bain said. "Now, if you have no further need for me, I have to go nourish myself."

"What?"

"Eat."

"Right. You go do that," Principal Victoria said, dismissing him.

Taking his leave, Bain moved quickly from the office, his mind mulling over everything. He now had greater responsibility but when it came down to the pivotal moment, it might serve to aid him. As long as the Sunny girl kept up her end, then this was just a mild stumble, something that would mean nothing in the long run. If all went well, then his, and here he struggled to admit it, assistant would be making contact for the first of many transactions.

In the meantime, appearances needed to be kept. No one would notice her but now that he was out in the school's spotlight as never before, he was going to have to do the one thing he had never had reason to do.

Be diplomatic.

If this didn't kill him…well, it had better be all worth it. End of story.

* * *

><p>Author's Note: I am posting a poll on my profile in which you will get the opportunity to vote for South Park's prom queen and prom king. I haven't been able to figure out just who will win so I am giving you all the opportunity to decide for me. Polling will remain open for a few chapters so don't wait, vote as soon as possible. Remember what happened to Stan when he refused to vote for school mascot.<p>

On another note, yes, I ripped off the Herman Cain political ad from 2011 for Kenny's ad. First and foremost, South Park is about satire, i.e. making fun of stuff. If you haven't guess by now, yes, I am going to be mocking the 2012 Republican presidential nominees. It's going to be a hilarious ride so sit back as the insanity begins.

Disclaimer: I do not own Herman Cain's 2011 political ad.


	12. All Cloak and No Dagger

Author's Note: Interesting results thus far but not many people have been voting. Is the poll not visible on the profile again? Because I made sure it was visible. Remember, you have the right to vote and unless you want to be banished from the South Park fandom, South Park style, do so before Puff Daddy gets a call. There is a time limit for this vote; it ends in two weeks. That will be March 24. Enjoy.

Disclaimer: I do not own South Park.

Warning: language

All Cloak and No Dagger

Charlie was stressed. She didn't use that word often to describe herself. To her, being stressed meant hiding yourself from a psychopathic brother, it meant fleeing a country that you had come to know as your home, it meant having to play bodyguard to a vulnerable amnesiac.

Notice, things like tests, bills, and everyday life did not come anywhere close to what made her stressed.

But that word could be used now.

"What the hell is he up to?" she demanded as she glared into her school lunch, which today consisted of a sloppy Joe, green beans, and white milk. Not of it stood a chance against her malice and if you paid attention, you would have sworn the milk was starting to curdle.

What did you expect? She had to keep an eye on an unholy demonspawn and keep tabs on a sociopathic asshole who was really acting out of character, if that were possible.

The fact that Bain for once sounded normal was something to be alarmed about. Bain didn't act normal because he wasn't normal and he didn't attempt to try and act like it. Said it was a waste of time and that his acting talents would be wasted on brainless morons.

Ultimately, it was kinda creepy. Bain was pleasant, Bain was talkative, Bain was _nice_. None of those words should even be in the same sentence with Bain's name unless there was a not between them!

And let's not forget that Damien has also started to become a handful. Of all the times to do so, he chose now, just when Bain's starting to act weird. When did Damien ever decide to sign up for prom king? Wasn't he supposed to tell her what he was up to before he—oh wait, after the shit last year, she shouldn't be surprised by it. Afterall, he was practically on the other side of the cafeteria, pining over a certain Jewish boy who was steadfastly not looking or acknowledging him.

Damien didn't like to be ignored. In that way, the Antichrist was almost like the teenager that he looked like, never mind that he was much older than he appeared.

Believe it or not, demonspawn aged slower than mortals did. Who knew? How did that explain why he seemed to age alongside his mortal peers, she did not know though it was explained to her once.

There was also a disclaimer that her mortal mind wouldn't have understood the explanation but she had ignored it at the time.

Suffice to say, she didn't understand the explanation.

"You sound pissed," Christophe commented, conspicuously keeping a seat between himself and her.

"Damn right I am!" she snared. "What's he thinking?"

"Which 'e are you referring to? Your ward or your wheezle?" Christophe asked. "Ef et es your ward, 'e appears to be zinking wiz 'is dick."

"I'm talking about my weasel problem and you know it," Charlie glared at her friend.

"You zink I make it my business to know what zat psychopath es zinking?" Christophe asked.

"With as many times as he's tried to kill Rhiannon, you'd think you would," Charlie retorted.

"You forget I'm more of a 'ands-on kind of person," Christophe replied. "I razzer let my fists do ze talking."

"That so? Then why don't you use those fists to beat some answers out of that asshole," Charlie remarked, turning her glare to the empty seat across from her. "Asshole doesn't have the guts to face me."

"Are you going to eat anyzing?" Christophe asked, eyeing her sloppy Joe.

"Get your own," Charlie snapped as she grabbed the sloppy sandwich and took a bite out of it. Munching on the chili-ed meat and bun, she angrily swallowed and chugged on the half-pint of milk that came with it. Funny, it tasted bad. And the expiration date wasn't for another two weeks…

"Today must be very tough for you," Christophe noted. "I never zought et was possible to eat angrily until now."

"Shove it up your ass," Charlie spat out as she looked away from her school provided meal, searching for a flash of black or anyone that was incredibly short. "Where the fuck is he?"

"Want me to find out?" Christophe offered.

Before she could give an answer, most likely an affirmative, someone approached her table and no it was not Bain. No, it was a redheaded girl who was about Charlie's height whose eyes were hardened with determination. It wasn't until this girl was in Charlie's line of sight that Charlie noticed she was there and taking Bain's usual seat.

For some reason that bothered Charlie more than she would care to admit.

Crystal blues that almost seemed to fade into the whites of her eyes seemed to peer into her soul, dissecting her very being while the girl perched her elbows on the table, her hands clasped together with her fingers intertwined.

Who the fuck was this and why was she in Bain's chair?

"Who the fuck are you?" Charlie rudely demanded.

"Can't help but hear that you're pissed off at a certain short person," the girl commented.

"Where did you hear that?" Charlie narrowed her eyes at the girl suspiciously.

"Other side of the cafeteria," the girl shrugged in answer. "Believe it or not, I might have something on your boyfriend…what he's doing, who he's talking to."

"Are you stalking him?" Charlie asked bluntly.

The girl jerked back in her seat as if she was physically struck, her face scrunched in disgust. "Fuck no! Why the hell would I want to stalk that bastard?"

"You seem to 'ave a low opinion of our mutual thorn in our side," Christophe remarked. "Give us your name and we will give ours in turn."

"I already know who you are, Mole," the girl replied, turning towards Charlie next, "and you, Bain's girlfriend."

"And who are you?" Charlie frowned at the girl, choosing to overlook the title bestowed on her.

"Call me DJ," the girl answered.

"DJ," Christophe repeated, speaking it as if he was tasting the very word itself. "What can we do for you?"

"I've been noticing, not stalking, some interesting things about your boyfriend," DJ said, keeping her eyes trained on Charlie.

"Yeah, and?" Charlie snarked in disbelief.

"I've seen him talk with Sunny Grain," DJ said. "In fact, I've seen him speak with her a lot recently. Probably speaking with her right now."

"Who?" both Charlie and Christophe asked simultaneously.

"She's the pink-haired girl," DJ stated, receiving only blank stares from her audience. That didn't stop other ideas from coming up, though.

"Is he lending money out again?" Charlie demanded, looking towards Christophe. "I thought he got out of that racket."

"Most likely 'e's threatening 'er," Christophe shrugged. "Zough why 'e's talking wiz a pink-haired girl es curious. Es zere even a pink 'aired girl in school?"

"Beats me," Charlie shrugged. "I think I might have met someone with pink hair once but she went out with Rod once. Bain made her spill the beans on him before he killed him."

"Bain killed someone?" DJ said quickly, leaning in closely and looking interested. A bit _too_ interested.

"No, it was Cartman," Charlie said carefully, recalling that the Park County Police believed that the fatass had something to do with it. "Too little evidence so they haven't rearrested him yet."

"That so?" DJ questioned, looking as if she didn't believe a word she said.

"You seem real interested in Bain," Christophe commented. "Why es zat?"

"I…I have my reasons," DJ said, looking at Christophe distrustfully.

"Care to share?" Christophe asked.

"No," DJ stated.

"But why tell us zat Charlie's boyfriend—"

"Shut the fuck up," Charlie snapped at Christophe.

"—es talking wiz someone wiz pink 'air? You must know more zan zat," Christophe asked. "Don't get up," he added when it seemed like DJ was going to leave. "You won't get five feet before one of us drags you back. Tell us all you know."

"Are you threatening me?" DJ asked suspiciously.

"I don't know, depends on what you do," Christophe said, looking at her serenely.

DJ eyed them both carefully, debating on what she should do. Finally, she said, "All I know amounts to shit. What do you want to know?"

"What you know about the pink 'aired girl," Christophe asked. "I personally do not know anyone who would dye zeir 'air zat color but I 'ave different tastes."

"Fine, I followed the girl," DJ stated, giving the impression that she was having her teeth pulled.

"And you call yourself not a stalker," Charlie snorted.

"That girl, Sunny," DJ spat out, "met with someone."

"Oh, who was et an' what did zey say?" Christophe asked, interested.

"I don't know, I wasn't close enough to hear," DJ grounded out.

"Some help you are," Charlie said. "You really suck at cloak and dagger shit."

"Fuck off," DJ rolled her eyes.

"No, you fuck off," Charlie shot back. "I don't know what your beef with Bain is but drop it. Whenever he's involved, nothing ends happily."

"You know that for a fact," DJ pressed Charlie.

"Why don't you get the fuck out of here before I shove my foot up your ass," Charlie retorted.

Allowing DJ to leave, Charlie was a bit surprised to see that Bain wasn't standing behind the girl or even snuck up on her. He was still absent and lunch would end in a little less than ten minutes. He was never this late before…

"So your boyfriend es up to somezing again," Christophe said, watching her closely.

"When is he not?" Charlie grumbled.

"Zere es somezing about zat girl I do not like," Christophe mentioned. "Would you like me to keep an eye on 'er or should I look for—"

"Call him my boyfriend again and I will strangle you," Charlie warned.

"Well, if you are not boyfriend and girlfriend, zen what are you?" Christophe asked.

"Hell if I know," Charlie said. "We're something."

* * *

><p>That…had not gone the way DJ had hoped it would. It seemed like Charlie was not like most girls who got jealous when they found out their boyfriends were in the company of other girls.<p>

Still, she did get some useful information. Apparently, Bain was responsible for killing someone called Rod. She had no idea who the hell that was but a little digging ought to help. She just might bust that asshole yet!

Yet, she was curious. Bain had indeed been in the company of Sunny Grain and the next thing DJ knew, this pink-haired girl was taking off after school, sometimes late at night and she was always heading to some street corner. Sometimes there was someone there, sometimes there wasn't. Only once did DJ see some kind of transaction happen.

And no, it wasn't Wolf Black who Sunny was meeting up with. DJ knew who Wolf was because she bought some…er…camera equipment from him, and at a cheap price too! Want a digital camera without having to feel like you're cutting off an arm? Go to Black Market where all your moment-capturing needs can be found!

Had to put that advertisement out there. She had unknowingly signed her soul to Wolf and was now contractually obligated to advertise for him.

Whatever. Fuck you.

But back to what was really important, she had a potential well of information that she could use. She would still keep tabs with the LESBIANs and MUFFDIVERs in the extreme off chance that they actually came up with something. Right now, she needed to find out about this Rod character and see how he could possibly be used against Bain.

* * *

><p>It was much too late for her to sign up for prom queen but that didn't stop Stan from approaching his girlfriend. Now, before you thought he was going to ask her to try, he knew it was too late. Instead, he had something else in mind.<p>

"Will you help me cream the other guys in the election?" he asked, looking down at her with pleading eyes.

He could see the uncertainty in her eyes and it kinda hurt him that she didn't automatically say yes. Even an okay would be okay here, forgive the possible pun.

"But what about all that talk of whoever is king and queen having to get married?" Kyra asked.

In an uncommon bout of clarity, he replied, "That's all a bunch of bullshit. Somebody made it up just to get people worked up. Sure, a bunch of them ended up marrying but I doubt it's because of some 'mysterious' power and more of all the rednecks in town pressuring them to marrying."

"But the whole town is made up of rednecks," Kyra pointed out.

"Babe, this is more about me beating the other guys at something," he told her earnestly. "It's…um…it's kinda like playing them on Halo, you know. They're on the other team or teams or whatever and I need to get the highest score in order to win."

"So…this is going to be like playing Halo?" Kyra asked, biting her lip.

"I guess," Stan shrugged. "I was kinda just trying to compare it to something."

"Okay, I'll help," Kyra said, eyes becoming determined. Stan recognized the look on her face as the one she wore when she was doing some serious Pwnage online. It was kinda scary but thrilling at the same time. "I'll help on one condition."

"Eh?" Stan raised an eyebrow at her. "What condition?"

He would find himself groaning to himself, bemoaning the circumstances he found himself in.

"My dad knows Mitt Romney," Gary had said cheerfully once he come on board. "We can get some advice from his advisors. Heck, he might even lend us one! We'll coach you on how to campaign to everyone and believe me, the guys on presidential campaigns are no slouches. You'll win for sure!"

Stan hadn't spoken with or to Gary in a long time. It wasn't that he didn't like the other kid, it was more like he was wary about him. When someone calls you immature and to suck their balls in front of your friends and then your friends think the guy is badass…well you get the idea. You don't hang around that kid anymore.

But fuck…what had he gotten himself into? He was competing with Kenny and Cartman, both of whom had a leg up on this race. Then there were the others. Despite being a surprise, Stan had soon found out at lunch why Craig of all people had decided to run.

_Because it's boring and normal and that's how I like it._

Stupid Craig.

Clyde hadn't been a surprise but what had been was that Token wasn't running. _Token_. The one guy who in popularity and football prowess would have been a serious contender for the prom king crown was not running and why? Because everyone expected him to run and he quite frankly didn't care about who was prom king. Why couldn't he be himself? Why couldn't he hang out on the sidelines and watch? Why did he have to be the token black candidate?

That was what Token had told him. Then Stan learned that Token was starting a super PAC. For Craig. And it already had two hundred dollars raised, already raking in the big bucks.

Fucking rich asshole. And fucking Craig.

"You know what?" Kyra asked him, bringing him out of his thoughts. "I never thought that this was going to be so exciting," the girl said almost dreamily. "I'm really getting into this. I didn't think I would."

Stan smirked at her and wrapped his arm around her shoulders. "Do you think I would ever steer you wrong? We're going to make a great team and we're going to kick everybody else's asses!"

"Hell yeah!" Kyra cheered, giving a fist pump.

Yep, she was happy and now so was he. He couldn't help but think how awesome it felt to make this girl happy, happy with him, happy for doing something with him. It was fucking fantastic!

"Great news!" Gary said he approached them, putting his phone away. "I spoke with Mitt and he's sending one of his best speech coaches here to help! This thing's in the bag."

"Sweet!" Stan said, the fires of competition making him forget about whatever self-imposed barrier that existed between him and the Mormon. He was about to show up Kenny and the fatass! What could be better?

* * *

><p>With the sun beginning to set in the west, Roxi bit her lip contemplatively as she watched the enormous star sink behind the mountains. It would soon be time for her to dart out into the night and continue her search for the elusive Professor Chaos.<p>

Correction, _Le Chat Noir_ would continue the search. Once she donned her mask, she was no long Roxi Thame, sex on legs and wildly popular high school girl.

In fact, she had put on the majority of her costume in anticipation for tonight. Yes, she had been going out even though she should have been laying low after that mob incident but she had found a note only last night.

Professor Chaos had been contacting her, telling her through the note where he was going to be the following night, this night, that he had something big planned and nothing she could do would stop him. If that wasn't a challenge, then Roxi had no idea what was. The villain was just daring her to come after him and who the hell was she to not show up when she was invited?

She did show up uninvited to other places but she was cool so they had to let her in. That was beside the point, though.

The doorbell rang and Roxi quickly wrapped herself in a robe, not wanting anyone in her family to know that she was secretly moonlighting as a superhero. And also, every superhero tries to keep their secret identity a secret. It was the drama aspect of it that appealed to her. What could be more dramatic than keeping a big secret like being a famous superhero from your parents? It was hella-cool. Like Hannah Montana before she became lame.

But back to the doorbell, that had to be Mari. Her friend was so deep in this that she had to come over every night. It just…sorta happened but every superhero needed a confidant or something. She bet Mysterion had one too and if he had one then she needed to have one too.

Opening the front door, Roxi froze in place as she saw that not only was Mari there but she had brought someone else with her.

"Hey Roxi!" Wendy greeted her, stepping through the doorway and embracing her in a hug.

Looking at Mari from over Wendy's shoulder, _Le Chat Noir's_ alter ego demanded silently to Mari about what the hell was going on. What was Wendy doing here? It was just supposed to be the two of them!

Mari either didn't understand the look Roxi was sending to her or she was ignoring her. Or maybe Professor Chaos was mind-controlling her! That bastard!

"How are you doing, girl?" Wendy asked as she pulled away, smiling gently at her. "I saw Mari coming over so I thought I might as well join her. I didn't want you to think I forgot about you."

"That's…great," Roxi responded, her voice almost cracking. Crap, crap, crap! Wendy had no idea how close she was to discovering her secret! Damn it Mari! If only you weren't being mind-controlled!

"Underdressed?" Mari drawled as she looked Roxi up and down, knowing exactly what was underneath the robe.

"I-I-I was going to take a bath!" Roxi stuttered, trying to excuse herself. "Yeah. A bath. That's right."

"Do you feel dirty?" Wendy asked in concern. "I've read that people who've been raped tend to feel dirty. They take hot showers and scrub so hard that they rub themselves raw. Oh, I am so sorry for not stopping that rapist!"

"But I wasn't!" Roxi protested.

"Don't go into denial Roxi!" Wendy cut her off. "You go into denial and the rapist wins!"

"Yeah, the bitch wins," Mari added lacklusterly but was watching Roxi closely for her reaction.

"You tell her Mari!" Wendy said.

"I'm not in denial!" Roxi griped.

"So you're in denial of being in denial?" Mari asked.

"Oh no, she's regressing!" Wendy exclaimed as she grabbed onto her and pressed Roxi's head into her bosom.

"Wendy, you're like my sister," Roxi began to choke as she was being suffocated indigently. "But you're choking me!"

"Ssh, ssh, it'll be all right," Wendy cooed as she patted Roxi's robe covered back.

Not wanting to do it but having no other choice, Roxi shoved Wendy away from and gasped loudly, trying to get as much air into her lungs as possible. Ah, that felt good…

"Was I hurting you? Oh what kind of a friend am I?" Wendy practically wailed. "Can you ever forgive me Roxi?"

"Yeah. Sure," Roxi gasped. "I'm…going to my room."

"Don't get raped!" Mari said after her as Roxi climbed up the stairs.

"Screw you!" Roxi shouted over her shoulder.

"You don't think I was a little too forward?" Wendy asked Mari worriedly.

"She'll get over it," Mari replied as Roxi slammed the door behind her dramatically.

Christ, she was tired of having to hear how she raped herself! How was that even possible? Yet she couldn't find it in herself to tell Wendy that she was the mysterious _Le Chat Noir_ because only God knew how her friend would take it.

Wendy must have hung around Stan too much. Some of Stan's dad slipped into her, she was positive about it. With a sigh, she picked up Professor Chaos' note off her bed where she had left it. It wouldn't be too long now. Hopefully Mari would keep Wendy busy while she went out to take care of this.

She would take care of Chaos and Mysterion would finally see her as a legitimate hero. He might even be grateful enough to give her a Spiderman kiss! Oh, that would be perfect!

All she needed to do was go out to Stark's Pond and there she would beat him up. It would be simple, really.

* * *

><p>"It has to be so hard for her," Wendy said as she looked up towards the ceiling in the general direction of where Roxi's room was. "How could I let that happen to one of my closest friends?"<p>

"Shit happens," Mari said nonchalantly, not looking up from the magazine she was reading.

"Do you think I'm a bad person?" Wendy asked, still not taking her eyes off the ceiling. "If I only I had made everyone come earlier, then perhaps Roxi wouldn't have to be going through this. But no, I had to wait until it was late when the torches would have been more dramatic. Stupid musical number!"

"Uh huh," Mari grunted, turning the page idly.

"Wait, are you saying I'm a bad person?" Wendy frowned, looking away from the ceiling and towards Mari, believing the grunt was an affirmative.

"Uh huh," Mari grunted again in reply.

"I can't be a bad person!" Wendy exclaimed. "I can't! I give to charity. I study hard. I do my part to knock Eric Cartman down a peg. I can't be a bad person!"

"Uh huh," Mari continued to grunt.

"What if you're right Mari?" Wendy began to question herself. "What if…no, I can't. But there was that one time… But I made up for it with that other time. But there was that other time. Ooh…"

"Uh huh," Mari grunted.

"No!" Wendy declared, face hardening with determination. "I'm not a bad person and I'll prove! I make it up to Roxi starting now! In fact, I'll go check up on her right now and see if she needs anything! Sure, it may not be much now but every little bit helps!"

With that she left her seat as she marched resolutely to the stairs and then up them.

Meanwhile, back with Mari, the girl noticed that she no longer had company and looked up from her magazine. Her strategy of ignoring Wendy might have worked too well…

"What?"

As Mari was just realizing that she was alone, Wendy had reached Roxi's bedroom door, her hand held up in a fist and ready to knock. Taking a deep breath, Wendy knocked lightly on the door, waiting for Roxi to respond.

When Roxi didn't respond, Wendy frowned and knocked again. Still nothing. "Roxi?" she called out. "Is everything all right in there?" Wincing as she reminded herself of Roxi's delicate state, Wendy knocked again, becoming more anxious when Roxi didn't answer.

Worried beyond belief, Wendy opened the door, grateful that Roxi had the habit of not locking it when pissed off. The sight that greeted the raven-haired girl horrified her.

The window was open, the wind stereotypically making the curtains billow. More importantly, there was no sign of Roxi except for her robe that had been left in the middle of the room.

By God, Le Chat Noir had kidnapped Roxi, most likely to finish the job but not before raping her one more time! This was horrible! How could Wendy let this happen, especially on her watch! She had to get the other girls, rally them together to find Roxi before it was too late, and somehow write up another musical number because that's what mobs of teenage girls did when they rampaged.

There was a strong gust from the open window and it caused a small piece of paper to smack Wendy in the face, interrupting her planning. Tearing it off, Wendy glanced at it before making to throw it away. Stopping in mid-crumpling, Wendy took another look at the paper.

Was this a note? Meet at Stark's Pond? Tonight? And it was for Le Chat Noir? Who was Professor Chaos?

Whoever this Professor Chaos was, he had to have known that Le Chat Noir was coming back for Roxi. That lesbian rapist must have found it and decided to bring Roxi along to see what was up. But that didn't make any sense! Unless Roxi knew who Professor Chaos was and had teamed up with him to trap Le Chat Noir…

And hadn't Roxi been a bit uncomfortable when Wendy had said she was going to spend more time with them? Tonight was the night when this shit was going to go down!

Wendy knew what she needed to do now. She had to go down to Stark's Pond and make sure that this was the end of Le Chat Noir! But she couldn't go out there alone…

Two minutes later, she was dragging Mari behind her while giving a very paraphrased version of what was going on.

"Why do I hang out with you?" Mari cried out

* * *

><p>Bain was ignoring the chatter around him as he morosely picked at his dinner. Well, he had eaten some of it but he wasn't particularly hungry.<p>

Then again, whenever he had to do something that involved his older sister Sierra, his appetite was always on the shy side. Right now the bitch was gossiping with mommy dearest who he swore was an apprentice of Leanne Cartman and the noise was grating on his nerves.

For this night the women in the room decided to occupy one side of the dining table and left the other side so that the men could have man talk at the other. There wasn't much of that as his father was not a talkative person in the first place, Marcus the fool was tired and too polite to start a conversation by himself and he, Bain, despised social interaction of any kind.

So two tenors laughing it up was really spoiling whatever hunger he may have had. That and he was uncomfortable in his mother's seat. She always sat next to his ghost of a father, why the seat change now?

He barely looked up when his father finally grunted out to Marcus, asking how work was. Bain didn't even listen for the love-struck fool's reply because really, the idiot was a mere tool of his whore of a sister.

He would have left a long time ago if his mother hadn't been a stickler for etiquette. She was all into that polite manners bullshit and excusing yourself from the table before desert was, well, inexcusable.

A dainty hand shaking his shoulder forced him to turn his deadpan gaze at the woman he was currently flambéing mentally. "Bain sweetie? Would you like to say anything about your day? Marcus has already asked you twice," his mother interrupted his thoughts. Of all the gall…

"No," he stated, turning back to his half-eaten meal.

"He's being a Debbie Downer," he overheard Sierra comment and his grip on his fork tightened exponentially. "Don't let him get to you Marcus. All he does is come home and do nothing after school."

"That's not true," his mother replied. "He's been spending a lot of time with that White girl."

"There're a lot of girls in town who are white," Sierra chortled.

"No, that's her last name," Sybil Cynis corrected, seemingly unoffended by her daughter's remark.

"Is she your girlfriend?" Marcus asked him, hoping to engage him in conversation.

Bain refused to reply. Just because his slutty mother worshiped table manners did not mean he had to obey them all the time.

"Ahem, Bain?" his father coughed. "He asked you a question."

Feeling the frown that his mother was directing at him, Bain decided to use his default answer. "It's none of your business."

"I guess she is then," Sierra smirked at him. She didn't go on to make another snarkish comment though, knowing all too well that at the dinner table there was a point where you went too far.

"Were you with her after school?" Sybil asked, hoping to prolong the amount of time he had to talk. "You didn't come home after school like you used to."

"No," he answered, sticking to short replies. As long as he said something, she would eventually give up, especially when his answers contained the least amount of information possible.

"Then what were you doing?" Sybil pressed.

"Is Bain shy?" Sierra teased. "I bet he was getting something for his girlfriend. For prom. That's coming up, right?"

"Is that what you were doing?" Sybil asked, genuinely surprised.

Now, Bain didn't know if he was seeing things but he could see that Marcus was looking a bit put out at the topic. Didn't have the guts to change it, Bain supposed. A mischievous idea occurring to him, he decided to give in to his whorish sister's teasing but with a surprise of his own.

"I was," he answered casually. From the corner of his eye, he could see Sierra freeze up, shocked that she had hit the hammer on the nail. Well, not precisely, which he was about to inform her of.

"Mums?" Sybil asked dreamily.

"Prom committee," he corrected.

"Prom committee?" his father repeated, frowning at him.

"I didn't know you were interested in that," his mother remarked.

"Set up, mostly," he said, deciding to provide a little more information. "Let's just say it's all for Charlotte."

"Aw, she is your girlfriend!" his mother practically squealed and—for the love of Gacy, she was pinching his cheek! "I knew you would settle down!"

His father looked perturbed for some reason and Marcus only curious but it was Sierra reaction that Bain was more interested in. She was stone cold still. Perhaps another dig could be gotten away with.

"Also, I'd like to prevent what happened at Sierra's prom," he said.

Now it was his mother's turn to still. His father looked less perturbed and maybe a little bit more approving. Marcus was completely out of the loop but once again it was Sierra's reaction that he was more interested in. She was glaring at him, as if demanding why he was bringing that sensitive subject up.

"What happened?" Marcus asked, breaking the tense silence. "Was it bad?"

"_Nothing_," Sierra growled out, her glare at Bain intensifying.

"But why did everyone go quiet?" Marcus wondered.

"May I be excused?" Bain decided to ask instead of replying to Marcus. He figured that he would be allowed to leave after this little stunt, daring to bring up the one thing that Sierra wished never happened.

"You may," Sybil said, her voice slightly cracking. Bain didn't raise an eyebrow at the lack of pet name but he always hated it when she called him "sweetie" or anything else along those lines.

He hated a lot that was associated with his mother Sybil.

Never one to leave an opportunity unanswered, Bain pushed his chair back and left the table, detouring only to the kitchen to put his plate away and dump anything uneaten. After that, it was to sequester himself in his room where hopefully no one would bother him for the rest of the night.

* * *

><p>Even though she was practically see-through at school, at home it was a completely different matter. An aborted zombie apocalypse had Sunny's mother paying more attention to her than was necessary and her younger brother Thomas…well he was entering rebel teenager phase so what could be said about him other than all the noise he made?<p>

When it all came down to it, sneaking out of her house late at night was much harder than it should be. Not that Sunny made it a regular habit to sneak out, mind you, but ever since she had willingly volunteered to help Bain out in his latest scheme, she was keeping up very odd hours.

But it was awesome! Seriously, she hadn't felt this alive since Rod had asked her to be his girlfriend. All the secrecy and backroom deal stuff was making her heart race, in a good way, and even though she had no idea of how everything was going to turn out she was going to plunge into it.

What else would you do if you had the chance to work with someone you had up on a pedestal?

The night was chilly but it was always chilly at night in South Park. It would warm up a bit to the mid-40s by late July and then fall back down to the low-teens by early October. That's what you got when you lived up in the mountains.

But back to the matter at hand, she was bundled up to keep what heat her body would generate as she trekked deep into town. She kept an eye out for any danger that might try to waylay her and hoped that nothing would interfere with her mission tonight.

In South Park, there were only three things you had to worry about if you were out late at night. The first was random mobs, the second supernatural forces that might try to enslave your soul, and the third was the random entrance to Black Market where Wolf Black would try to hawk his wares to you.

The budding businessman had a silver tongue and could sell snow to an Eskimo. There was no telling what he would try to sell her and at bargain price too.

Streetlights dimly lit the way for her, one of them flickering as its bulb was dying out. It reminded her of this one movie, _Don't Go Outside 7_, where this one girl was walking out late at night, walked under a flickering streetlight and got skewered with a spear gun under it after asking the ill-fated question, "Who's out there?"

It was a mediocre kill in her opinion and disappointed on the blood-gushing aspect.

That didn't stop her from making a quick look around to see if there was anybody with a spear gun who was ready to kill her. It also didn't stop her from checking to see if there was anybody else nearby who might walk under the flickering light and get shot with a spear gun, just so she could watch the graphic death.

She was a horror fan through and through, what could she say?

Ultimately, she reached the street corner that Bain had set up as her meeting spot with whatever contact she was supposed to meet. She was a bit nervous about it because one, it was out in the open and two, sometimes no one showed up. As per instructions, she was to wait here fifteen minutes and if no one showed up, she was to leave.

Tonight, barely two minutes passed when her contact made…well, contact.

"Holy shit, where did you come from?" an average looking teenager dressed in gaudy mafia getup exclaimed.

It seemed like her invisibility was still working at full power tonight.

"I'm here for the shipment," she said, doing her best to not sound timid and failing somewhat at it. She almost spoke in a whisper there.

"Shipment? What shipment?" the other teen replied quickly, looking side to side as if he had been set up.

Okay, what was she supposed to do now? Oh right, the safe word, phrase, or whatever it was called.

"Um, look at my hair and tell me it's radioactive?" she said hesitantly.

"You're the contact?" the teen demanded, obviously recognizing the phrase. "You sure don't look like a crimin—I mean, ethically challenged businessperson."

"I'm the assistant," Sunny retorted, a bit offended by that remark somehow. She didn't know why she was offended but felt that she should be.

"Whatever, we got the…fifty gallons of corn syrup," the teenaged contact stated. "Whoever you're working for is lucky that Loogie had a bunch of this in storage."

"You know where to bring it?" she asked, looking around to see if anyone was around and if so looking at them.

The teenaged contact pulled out a small, ripped piece of paper and asked, "This is the address, right?"

Making sure that it was indeed her address, because that's where Bain wanted to store this stuff, Sunny gave the affirmative. "Remember, you gotta sneak this in without my mom—I mean the woman who lives there noticing."

"Relax, we do this all the time," the teenager waved away her concern.

"You do?" Sunny asked, slightly dubious.

"You don't believe me?" the teenaged contact responded. "Listen, let me tell you how this is going to go down. First, we're going to distract the lady of the house with a phone call from a guy who doesn't know when to shut up but is so charming that she can't hang up on him. When we know she's completely distracted after a couple of tests, we go through the back porch with the goods. Meanwhile, outside we have another colleague of mine dressed up as a carnival clown who will cut the power to the house with the exception of the phone line. While the lady of the house is busy being scared, we'll sneak the goods down to the basement and put up a convincing camouflage that she will not think twice about looking at if she ever goes down there. When the goods have been delivered, my guys will give out a signal taught to us by a French mercenary. The power goes back on just as our caller conveniently goes through a tunnel and the lady of the house is none the wiser."

Sunny blinked dumbly as she watched her mother hang up the phone, confused about the strange call and power outage but not thinking twice about it. It the basement, the stockpile of corn syrup sat innocently against a far wall with a sign in front of it saying "This is not 50 gallons of corn syrup." On a nearby power pole, her contact's colleague who was dressed as a carnival clown dangled from the power lines, unable to figure out how he was going to get down.

Her contact had narrated every action of his men as they were going said actions.

There was only one thing that Sunny could say to this.

"Was that a dying giraffe?" she asked.

"We were assured that was what they sounded like," the teenaged contact nodded.

"So…that's it?" Sunny asked.

"Inform your employer that we've kept our end of the deal and that my boss expects the other half of payment," the teenaged contact said.

Sunny nodded dumbly as she was left alone in her backyard. That had been…interesting, she supposed. She wasn't that interested in crime drama stuff so quite frankly, she was still a bit lost. The fact remained that she now had fifty gallons of corn syrup in her basement and she needed to call up Bain to tell him that it was all there.

First, she had to get back into her room. With her mother in the living room watching the Lifetime movie of the month. Without letting her mother find out that she had been out in the first place. And her powers of invisibility had no effect here.

Huh.


	13. It's a Trap!

Author's Note: Poll ends on March 24, which is next Saturday, not the one coming up. Enjoy.

Disclaimer: I do not own South Park.

Warning: language, violence

It's a Trap!

"I must say, I'm pretty proud of myself this time, General Disarray," Professor Chaos proclaimed, bared arms crossed over his chest.

General Disarray said nothing but did nod to his superior's statement. There wasn't much he could say about this and was going along for the ride, like he usually did. The call from Butters—er, Professor Chaos had surprised him, but his alter ego had easily slipped back into the role of the subservient general with dark ideals. He had never lost faith with Chaos' destructive ambitions and had believed it would have been only a matter of time until he was called upon to aid his master.

This had been years in the making, General Disarray thought to himself. With the rise of superheroes and ultimately the Coon and Friends, Chaos had instructed him to lie low for a while. A touching sentiment from the man who would make all society pay for ostracizing him. However, as the years passed, it seemed like Chaos had lost his spark and faded out of the limelight of doom and destruction.

Until now. Something had brought that spark back and Dougie—General Disarray knew he would have to thank whoever had blown life back into it. Professor Chaos was back and along with him plans to wreak havoc and all sorts of not very nice deeds to be committed. He couldn't wait.

For tonight, the plan was to trap the superhero who called herself Le Chat Noir, whoever that was. Sounded like a Catwoman knock off to him. He knew some French himself but why wouldn't Le Chat Noir call herself Black Cat…

Oh wait, that would be copyright infringement. Never mind.

Chaos was going over the mechanics of tonight's trap, checking and double checking to make sure everything was ready and able to snap into action at a second's notice. It made General Disarray marvel at the amount of energy the professor was putting into all this.

He needed to hear it again, hear the plan once more so he could revel in the diabolicalness of it all.

"Remind me, what's the plan again?" he asked, his once nasally voice coming out deep.

"It's so simple, General Disarray," Professor Chaos said, not in the least put off that this was maybe the third time he had laid the plan out. "There's a new hero in town who has yet to use her claws. What better time to show her who's boss when she's still so weak and inexperienced? If she was a hero worth her colors, she would already suspect she was heading for a trap. I'm betting she hasn't thought that far. Once we capture her, we'll be on to phase two."

"And what's phase two?" General Disarray asked, drinking it all up.

"Mysterion has been keeping an eye on her too," Chaos answered. "He'll be sure to crash this little party so there's going to be another trap set up to capture him! That way, I can rid myself of two heroes for the price of one! And then no one will stand in our way to bringing destruction and doom to this helpless, little town! Mwa ha ha ha ha!"

Fucking beautiful. It brought a tear to General Disarray's eye.

"When should we be expecting them to show up?" he asked, looking up at the night sky as if that would tell him what time it was.

"In the note I sent to her, she should be around here by nine o'clock, unless Mysterion is doing something to stop her from showing up but I doubt he's figured out about the note," Professor Chaos said. "He'll be following her, though, so he'll show up just we capture her!"

Looking away from the night sky, General Disarray checked out his watch that was covered up by one of his large, aluminum foil gloves. "It's almost time, Professor Chaos!" he announced.

"Then we need to hide ourselves and wait until she comes," Professor Chaos said. "She'll show up any moment now and—oh, do be careful where you step General Disarray! I put a bear trap somewhere around here…"

* * *

><p>Le<em> Chat Noir<em> slowly emerged from the urban environment of South Park and out into the open wilderness that surrounding the mountain town. Her sharp, cat-like eyes searched the area, looking for any threats to her being.

"I can't see a Goddamn thing out here! Don't cats have night vision?" she complained. After some thought, "And why didn't I bring a flashlight? That would make thing soooo much easier!"

_Stop whining, you're a superhero!_ she berated herself. _You don't need a flashlight!_

Cautiously, she left the fence that lined the backyard of someone's house and crept out further to the small road that separated her from Stark's Pond. So far, so good, nothing had jumped out at her yet. Damn, she was nervous. She needed to get it out of her system fast because she could not meet a supervillain feeling nervous. Professor Chaos would sniff her fear out in an instant, at least that's what she learned from Butters.

Poor kid knew so much about this monster; probably had to deal with him on a regular basis. Well, fear no longer Butters! _Le Chat Noir_ was here to right wrongs and serve up a healthy serving of justice!

Professor Chaos, bringer of destruction and doom, prepare yourself!

Crossing the street with no mishap, _Le Chat Noir_ drew closer to the pond. A quick look at the pond showed her that much of the ice that usually covered it was not there, spring thaw doing a doozy on it. She was reminded of a time when a couple guys got into a fight on it and one fell under it. Say, wasn't one of those guys a girl and not a guy? Wow, that was long so long ago…

Coming to a stop, she did another look around. No one and nothing. Now she was starting to get a bit impatient.

"Professor Chaos!" she yelled out, glaring around. "I know you're out here! Show yourself!"

"Heh he he he, look what the cat dragged in," Professor Chaos' devious voice rang out, surprising her. Wow, the acoustics of this place…never mind, concentrate on the now, Roxi! Hold on, _Le Chat Noir_. She needed to remember that she was a kickass superhero and not her fabulous alter ego.

"Too scared to face me?" she demanded. "Come on out!"

"Aw, is the great _Le Chat Noir_ a scaredy cat? I know if I were in your shoes, I'd be one too."

"Quit with the cat puns! They're so 2011!" she snapped, taking cautious steps as she began to really explore this place. Now where could Professor Chaos be hiding?

"Looking for me?" Professor Chaos' disembodied voice asked. "How about we play a little game?"

"A game?" _Le Chat Noir_ repeated suspiciously.

"It's simple, really. I'll give you clues to where I'm hiding and you try to follow them. Simple, right?"

She rolled her eyes at that. Now he was just taunting her! Oh, she would show him! She took a step to her right when—

"You're getting colder…"

She paused in her step then backed up. Waiting a second, she took a step forward.

"Warmer."

Oh, so this was going to be how it was going to go? Fine by her, she told herself as she flexed her clawed fingers. She was going to scratch the shit out of him once she found him.

A few more steps and "Warmer. Warmer. Oh, you're starting to get cold."

She stopped, quickly looking at a nearby tree and some underbrush. She couldn't tell if anybody was hiding behind the brush but she was going to find—

"Much colder," Professor Chaos taunted.

"Come out and face me like a man!" she exclaimed, stepping away from the underbrush.

"Now you're getting warmer," Professor Chaos singsonged.

"What kind of supervillain acts like this?" _Le Chat Noir_ exclaimed, almost ready to pull her hair out.

"You're hot," Professor Chaos mocked.

For some reason, it felt like the ground became softer. _Le Chat Noir_ took a look at the earth that looked solid and could see nothing wrong with it. Yet why did she have a bad feeling about it?

"You're smoking hot!" Chaos declared.

Looking around, the superhero didn't see any sign of the villain. "Are you jerking my chain—what the?"

Her leg jerked without warning and suddenly the word was spinning. _Le Chat Noir_ was disoriented for only a moment as the sensation of falling cleared the confusion up momentarily as her fall stopped almost as quickly as it begun. That was when things became strange because _Le Chat Noir_ was sure that everything had been right side up last she checked.

Right now, it looked like the whole world and flipped and…oh.

She was hanging upside down from a tree. By a rope that looped around her ankle. That was attacked to the tree that she had ignored previously. And now she was just dangling there helplessly.

…what the fuck!

"HA!" Professor Chaos crowed as he emerged from underbrush that was closer to Stark's Pond and not the one she had been looking at just now. "You fell straight for my trap, Black Cat Lady! Now your fate rests in the hands of Professor Chaos, bringing of destruction and doom! Mwa ha ha ha ha ha!"

"Your plan worked!" exclaimed a slightly taller individual that _Le Chat Noir_ had definitely not seen before, a person whose shiny metal armor almost glimmered in the moonlight.

"Have you so little faith, General Disarray?" Professor Chaos preened. "All it takes is a simple trap to catch a simple hero."

Was he calling her simple? Oh, he was so going to get it now when she got out of here! She was going to kick his ass and claw out his eyes just because!

"Um, Professor Chaos?" General Disarray spoke, something catching his eye. "Perhaps we should hide?"

"Why? Oh, that's right. Quickly General Disarray!" Professor Chaos declared as he returned to hiding.

What was all that about? They had her right here! Were they blind of something?

There was a quick whoosh and she turned her attention towards where she heard the sound. She was having trouble seeing what it was but movement against the snow soon directed her to the sight of—

Oh. My. God. It was Mysterion! Was he here to save her? This…this was extremely embarrassing, especially since she had vowed to herself to never be put into this position. And now here was her hero, here to save her again.

Mysterion did not look happy and his narrowed look was more than enough to make _Le Chat Noir_ want to sink in on herself. Why was it she was always finding herself needing to be saved by him? How was she ever going to win his respect at this rate?

Just as he was within a couple feet of her, his displeasure clearly seen by even her, his eyes suddenly widened and he vanished. It startled _Le Chat Noir_ as she hadn't thought that Mysterion had the power of teleportation.

Then she heard a groan and directed her attention upward…downward and she was reminded that the ground had been very soft before she fallen for Professor Chaos' rope trap. Perhaps the reason why the ground had been so soft was because there was a hole that had been dug into earth and at the bottom of which was a dazed Mysterion.

Wait, had the two of them fallen for some of the oldest traps in the book?

A shadow fell over the two of them and _Le Chat Noir_ had to twist her head towards the grinning Professor Chaos who looked like the proverbial cat who caught the canary.

"Two for the price of one, General Disarray," Professor Chaos boasted, his teeth shark-like. "Come, we must get these two into their cages, especially before Mysterion regains his senses!"

"Yes Professor Chaos!" General Disarray agreed enthusiastically, practically fanboying there for a moment.

* * *

><p>Once again, Winslow was out of his reach when Bain heard someone knock on his bedroom door and before he could retrieve the blade, the door was opening to reveal Marcus looking in curiously at him.<p>

What was he, some kind of sideshow freak? Well, maybe on the inside…

"Oh, you're still up," Marcus said in greeted, taking a step further into his domain.

"What do you want?" Bain demanded rudely, looking away from the cop and back towards his laptop screen. Oops, had to minimalize that window.

"I don't mean to pry but, did something happen at Sierra's prom?" Marcus asked. "I tried to ask Sierra but she refuses to say anything."

"I wouldn't have brought it up if nothing had happened," Bain commented. "Why do you want to know so badly?" He had to stop himself there because for some reason, whenever he spoke with his whorish sister's tool, he became quite talkative. What was it that was so inviting about this cop?

"Well," Marcus scratched the back of his brown-haired head uncomfortably, "I have the feeling that it's important. Your parents didn't want to talk about it either."

"So you thought that I might?" Bain concluded for him.

"Would you?" Marcus asked hopefully. Was he…? Were those the…? Goddamn puppy dog eyes, how did Marcus know how to use them?

"Close the door and sit down," Bain instructed, turning away from his computer. He watched as Marcus did as he was told and when he didn't find anywhere else, the young adult took a seat at the foot of his bed, about the same spot Sierra had the other night.

Unlike that time, Bain had no problem with it.

After trying and having to stop himself from calling his older sister a whore, cunt, what have you, he finally managed to say, "Sierra…was one of those girls who put a lot of stock into her senior prom."

"Uh huh," Marcus nodded, watching him eagerly.

"She demanded only the best," Bain continued with his story. "An expensive dress, the perfect mum, the works. Drained the family reserves. She had the most popular senior at the time as her date and she was more than expecting to be voted prom queen. She was."

"Wow," Marcus mouthed.

Christ, it was as if the tool's adoration for that whore had increased. Bain found himself trying to hold back a grimace, something that he rarely did. Hold himself from grimacing, that is. Why that was, even he was asking himself that. But he couldn't dwell on that for long; he was in the middle of something.

"From what I heard and was told, that was where everything went to hell," Bain said. "Someone did a Carrie on her and drenched her in pig's blood. Human fecal matter rained from the ceiling. The spiked punch caught on fire for some reason and the stage soon after. That was the tame stuff. Outside, things got worse. Somehow, the ATF had gotten wind that the whole thing was a cult party and they were out there armed to the teeth. How it didn't become a Waco, no one can say."

Marcus was absolutely spellbound by the tale.

"She…she didn't take it very well," Bain finished, deliberately putting that pause there.

"I can imagine," Marcus said softly, his hands tightly gripping his knees.

"No, she really didn't take it well," Bain emphasized. "Between her high school graduation and first week of college, she had to be committed. The first reason being that she had to be tested for telekinetic powers and the second because she had devolved into a raving lunatic."

"She what?" Marcus gasped.

"It's a miracle that she..." here he winced internally, "…got better. My parents did their best to make sure that bit of information didn't get out so that way her college wouldn't tell her that her spot was revoked. Even the University of Colorado in Colorado Springs has standards."

"Did they catch who was responsible?" Marcus asked.

"Not to my knowledge," Bain replied. "But now you know why it's a sensitive topic around here, yes?"

"Yeah," Marcus agreed, staring blankly into space. "Maybe I should go and—"

"See Sierra?" Bain finished for him. "And let me guess, tell her you're sorry about what happened at her prom? That will land you on the couch faster than Stan Marsh's pine wood derby car."

"You mean the kid that built that car lives here?" Marcus asked.

"Where do you think those aliens landed?" Bain snorted.

"How come I haven't heard anybody bragging about him in this town?" Marcus wondered.

"Events like that happen in this town all the time, Sierra's prom being no exception," Bain said dryly, bringing the topic back to the original one.

"Is that why you're taking charge? To prevent something like that from happening at yours?" Marcus asked.

"I suppose you could say that," he shrugged, not wanting to go into that.

"You really do have a soft side to you," Marcus remarked.

"Excuse me?" Bain deadpanned.

"You really do care about stuff even though you act gruff all the time," Marcus said. "I knew you could care about something."

He…had no answer to that, actually. His lips were parting, he was ready to say something to counter that…yet nothing came out. His jaw worked up and down and still nothing. He couldn't muster up any of his usual brand of retorts, an insult wrapped up with a sophisticated air that informed everyone that yes, he was better than them. In every way.

It was like the…the goodness of this tool was sucking up all his negativity and…and…and purifying it or something! And damn it, his usual erudition was abandoning him!

"You look shocked," Marcus pointed out.

Finally gathering some wits, Bain said snippily, "I assure you, there's nothing _nice_ about me."

"Right, then why do you have a girlfriend?" Marcus questioned. "Whoever she is must see something in you other than that mean front you put up."

Oh, this was going into territory that Bain had no intention of exploring, much less entering. It looked like there was a keen mind under that stupidity and naivety. But no matter how keen Marcus' brain was, it was nowhere close to what his was.

"I don't know what she sees in me but while we're on the topic, what do you see in my—Sierra?" Bain replied, having to stop himself from defaming his cunt of an older sister. No sense in invoking any ire from a cop of all people.

Taken aback slightly by the obvious change in topic, Marcus in a demonstration of how weak willed he was allowed it. With a dreamy smile on his lips, the older male answered, "She's beautiful, inside and out. I can't really explain it but when I'm near her or just looking at her, and knowing that she's with me, I'm complete."

Oh crap, it was another of those soul mate responses.

"It's like she's my soul mate," Marcus remarked.

God fucking damn it.

"Do you feel that way with your girl?" Marcus asked and for a moment, the cop's eyes were so intense. Bain found that he could only blink dumbly at that and before he knew it, he was asking himself how he felt about Charlotte.

What did he feel about her? She was a challenge, that's the best way he could put it. She was the immovable object to his unstoppable force, he supposed. She also had the most fascinating facial expressions that range from carefree happiness, melancholy, ferocity and the occasional disgust. But what fascinated him the most was her fear and that was a sight to behold. What also irked him the most was that she had never been afraid of _him_. It was always something else—what the fuck was he doing?

He was not soul searching here! This, this was, was…

This was dangerous territory, that's what it was. How Marcus was doing this was beyond his impressive intelligence but it had to stop before he went too deep. He was not supposed to be on the couch here! If anyone should be, it should have been Marcus but somehow this youthful idiot was inadvertently turning the tables. On him!

He looked away from Marcus and purposely didn't say anything. That should be answer enough there.

"Don't want to talk about it? That's cool," Marcus said, also willing to let this subject drop too. "If you're not comfortable with it, that's okay."

Bain refused to say anything to that though for some reason he found himself relaxing somewhat. Was it because it felt like they weren't in dangerous waters anymore? Better continue to tread carefully. Regardless of what anybody thought, he still had some kind of reputation to uphold even if he was in the safety of his own house.

It was a matter of principle more so than anything.

And for a few minutes, nothing was said between the two making Bain wonder why Marcus was sticking around. He had answered his original question, right? What more did he need?

"Want to listen to some Darren Hayes?" Marcus said at last, giving the sociopath another hopeful look.

It didn't make Bain say anything but that didn't stop his hand from reaching to hit computer and bringing up his iTunes.

* * *

><p>Mari was dragging her feet, that was the only explanation for how slow they were going.<p>

"Come on Mari! Pick it up!" Wendy commanded, not relinquishing her grip on Mari's hand.

"But I don't wanna!" Mari whined in complaint.

"Our friend is in danger! She needs our help!" Wendy argued.

"I don't even know why I hang out with you guys!" Mari cried out in retort.

The retort fell on deaf ears.

Roxi should be at Stark's Pond by now and in who knew how much danger. It was up to them to aid their traumatized friend before she became even more traumatized! That's what friends were supposed to do! And besides, Roxi needed them in her time of need!

Wendy would be damned if she failed to help her friend one more time.

She was so intent on this self-imposed mission of hers that she neglected to take her cell phone with her. Back at Roxi's, said phone rang mercilessly and unheeded, the name Bebe Stevens lit up on the screen.

* * *

><p>"Where is she?" Bebe wondered as Wendy's phone rang for the umpteenth time. The blonde had wanted to invite her raven-haired counterpart for a night on the town in the hopes of lifting her spirits if not to get her mind off her most recent crusade.<p>

They hadn't heard from that lesbian rapist since the night of the mob and to Bebe, it sounded like they had run the bitch out of town. Wendy, though, was still sure that whoever this rapist was (the weird sounding name always slipped her mind) was still out there, waiting for the heat to die down until she struck again.

If a mob of fifty-something, pissed-off, teenaged girls wasn't enough to run someone out of town, Bebe didn't know what would.

"Christ," Bebe groaned as she hung up. Where the heck was Wendy? It was a Friday night, party night, and she was going to hang out with some of the girls. She was open-minded enough to want to give Wendy an invite to hang out, like a good friend would.

But Wendy just wasn't answering!

Stopping the call, Bebe huffed and told herself that if one of her closest friends wasn't answering, then she couldn't be blamed for going out to have fun without her. It didn't stop that twinge of guilt she felt but really, it had been so long since she had hung out with any of her close friends. It had been a while since she had hung with Bonnie, who always seemed busy with something for some reason, but she had managed to get a hold of the girl and secured the night to par-tay!

Plus, it had been a while since Devin was…murdered. Yeah, Devin could be a bitch at times but she had been a friend and she had in no way deserved what had happened to her. Rest in peace, her friend, you are sorely missed.

She left her home, dressed to kill and car keys jangling in her hand, and headed towards the car her parents had bought for her for her sweet sixteen. That had been an awesome birthday and she had been able to try her hand at being stupid and spoiled again. The behavior had been easy to fall back into, too easy, and Bebe's determination to work her way up in the world and not rely on her fabulous boobs was strengthened.

The fabulous part was a direct quote from Kenny right before he pressed his face into them one crazy night. They had both been so wasted…

Anyway, since it was her idea for a night out, she would be the one to pick up some of girls. Since she was driving now, she was automatically not the DD when they left whatever place they chose to go, be it some party someone was holding or a club. It didn't matter.

As she open the driver side door, she heard the crunching of snow behind her, a sound that caused her pause. Was someone sneaking up behind her? Had to be Wendy. Why was one of her best friends trying to sneak up on her?

With a grin she pulled away from her car and turned her head towards whoever was behind her just as there was a flash of metal and an explosion of pain blindsided her.

* * *

><p>"I've been working on this for almost three days," Professor Chaos announced as he looked over his handiwork.<p>

From the cage that Mysterion found himself trapped in, the superhero rolled his eyes. Of course Butters would be proud of this. If sticking him and Roxi, excuse him, _Le Chat Noir_ in makeshift cages was his big plan, well it was technically succeeding.

The both of them were in separate cages but what Butters' alter ego had planned for them, Mysterion had no idea yet. Not even when his assistant, General Disarray, backed up a stolen roadside electrician's truck up to the pond did he have an idea to Chaos' plan.

But he was sure that he would find out soon.

Normally, he would be trying to figure out a way out of the cage that was most likely weaker than it looked but Professor Chaos was taking great pains to keep him incapacitated this time around. The hooded superhero was tied to the bars with an unbelievable amount of restraints that consisted of both rope and bungee cords.

In a separate cage, Le Chat Noir was panicking somewhat. Apparently, tonight was not going the way she had wanted them to. But ugh, he was going to have to save her from whatever lame idea Professor Chaos had dreamed up this time. At least this time it wasn't a matter of life and death. Mysterion could not foresee any of this resulting in another death.

From the back of the truck that Mysterion had been aware of being stolen a couple days ago, a crane-like apparatus began extending towards the cages, at the end of which was a railed platform that an electrician would use if needing to be in high locations. It stopped over his cage and Professor Chaos climb onto top to connect his cage with the railed platform.

Mysterion kept his mind empty, figuring that Chaos was about to explain what diabolical plan he was up to. In the meantime, he was subtly trying to loosen his restraints just enough so that he could make his escape. He had to make sure that General Disarray didn't see what he was doing because for some reason, that guy had sharp eyes.

That and he displayed a more ruthless and cunning thought process than Professor Chaos did and he was merely an underling here.

Despite that, it was not like he was in a lot of danger.

Jumping off of his cage, Professor Chaos called out, "Lift'um up!"

Mysterion stilled as the truck's crane began to lift his cage off the ground, moving him over Stark's Pond ominously. Okay, this was starting to get a bit dangerous here.

"W-what are you doing?" Le Chat Noir stuttered, her eyes wide.

"You're about to see the genius of my plan," Professor Chaos proclaimed as he held a green painted rock in his hand. "Behold!" he cried out, holding the rock out for all to see. "What I have here is a special, uh, chemical that's gonna, that's gonna change the composition of this here pond so that it becomes flesh-eating acid!"

With that, he threw the rock into the pond at which point nothing happened.

"It may not look like it but that pond's quite acidic right now," Professor Chaos said when nothing important of note happened.

"What are you trying to do this time, Chaos?" Mysterion demanded, hoping to buy some time. He knew that the water below was anything but acidic. Damn it, Butters was still playing pretend here. However, if what he was going to do was what Mysterion thought he was going to do, this whole thing might turn out deadlier than the idiot thought.

So he doubled his efforts to get out of his bonds. Already, he could feel that one of his wrists were close to slipping out. Now that there was some distance between him and his captors, it would be harder for them to tell if he was struggling. Once he really started getting out of this mess of rope, it would be obvious to a blind man that he was freeing himself.

"It's quite simple, Mysterion," Professor Chaos sneered up at him. "I want you out of my way so that you can't interfere with my future endeavors! The power of the Def Con 50 will be mine and I can't have you stop me!"

"What about the girl? Why don't you let her go?" Mysterion shot back.

"Why give up my bait to lure you here in the first place?" Professor Chaos replied. "Since she too knows of my evil plans, she's going in after you! No one must be allowed to stand in the way of Professor Chaos! Bwa ha ha ha ha!"

"This sounds more like Eric Cartman than it does you," Mysterion said.

"Who cares if it is?" Professor Chaos shrugged. "One way or the other, you will be out of my hair for good!"

"I'll stop you!" Le Chat Noir declared. "You can't escape justice you fiend!"

"And you have a big mouth," Professor Chaos sneered. "Enough! It's time to destroy a pair of superheroes before they reach their prime! Activate the unnecessarily slow moving dipping mechanism, General Disarray!"

"Aye aye!" General Disarray called back from his place in the truck's cab.

There! Got it! Mysterion had managed to slip one of his hands out and now it was time for his arm. He didn't have much time as his cage shuddered and began to drop unnecessarily slowly down to the "acidic" water below.

"Yeah! Ye ha ha ha ha!" Professor Chaos crowed from his place on the ground. "I win Mysterion!"

Things were looking dire and as Mysterion made a few mental calculations, he realized that he would not be able to free himself before he took a nice dip into Stark's Pond. And who knew how long they would keep him under? He could drown before they decided to see if he had been eaten up by the "acid."

In a moment of divine intervention, his cage came to a stop before it reached the water.

Professor Chaos was still chuckling but then he realized that he had yet to reach the "acidic" water. "General Disarray? Why'd ya stop?" he complained as he glared over at the truck's cab.

Ignoring Chaos as he wasn't about to look a gift horse in the mouth, Mysterion escalated his struggling and managed to free an arm. From here, things would be smoother so long as no one paid him any attention.

"General Disarray?" Professor Chaos called out, heading for the truck's cab. "Why won't you answer me?" Opening the passenger side of the truck, Chaos' face was suddenly friends with the sole of a shoe and he tumbled down onto his ass, his back meeting up with the ground soon after.

More of Mysterion's upper body was freed…

"What do you think you're doing?" a voice that Mysterion clearly recognized as belonging to Wendy Testaburger demanded. What the…? What was she…? Never mind that, he was closer to freeing himself.

Like a movie monster, Professor Chaos lifted his upper body so that he was sitting up with his back ramrod straight. "You insolent—ow, I think you broke my face!" A shiny, silver covered hand gripped at his face.

"Butters! Are you out of your mind?" Wendy continued to exclaim. "You're lucky I came here! Are you trying to kill Kenny?"

There was a noticeable lack of silence from Le Chat Noir's cage but Mysterion was more concerned with—all right, his other arm was free! Thank you Wendy for giving him this opportunity; he was going to use it for all its worth.

"Wendy? What are you doing here?" Butters wondered, staring up at the self-righteous girl in shock.

"I came to find someone who calls himself Professor Chaos and my friend Roxi," Wendy stated. "Where is she? And where's the psycho, lesbian rapist too?"

"I'm not a rapist!" Le Chat Noir cried out from her cage.

Before Wendy could respond, something hit her in the back of the head and it took a second for Wendy's body to realize that consciousness had just been taken from it before she crumpled to the ground. Behind her, General Disarray stood with crooked glasses on his face and a fire extinguisher held in his hands, not looking the least bit repentant about harming the girl.

"Jesus General Disarray! You didn't hurt her too badly, did you?" Butters babbled before realizing which persona he was supposed to be in. "Uh-I mean, good work General Disarray."

"She should be unconscious," General Disarray said. "What should we do with her?"

"Tie her up, I guess," Professor Chaos said after a few seconds of thought. "Then we can continue with the dooming of Mysterion and—hey, where is he?"

If you're just catching up, then you should know that he had already escaped his cage and was stalking the two morons below. It was time to do what he did best.

"He has to be somewhere around here," General Disarray pointed out the obvious all the while on guard, his eyes darting all around trying to locate him.

"Keep your eyes peeled General Disarray. He could be anywhere," Professor Chaos ordered, also paranoid.

Oh yes, he could be anywhere, like right behind General Disarray who had no idea he was there.

Yet.

* * *

><p>Le<em> Chat Noir's<em> heart was pounding in her chest. Mysterion had somehow broken out of his cage and was somewhere around here. The bad guys suddenly had the tables turned on them and were on the run…despite the fact that they weren't running anywhere yet.

They were more like standing around and looking everywhere for some invisible menace that could strike them down at any second.

It was almost like that one night so many years ago when she had been attacked and nearly raped. Out of the shadows came her dark guardian and it was happening once again. From between the bars of her cage, she watched as something dark grabbed General Disarray from behind and vanished with the villain in tow, Professor Chaos none the wiser as he was searching in another direction.

Her breathing was coming out quick and she gripped the bars with her gloved hands tightly, waiting for what Mysterion would do next.

"General Disarray?" Professor Chaos called out, his anxiety obvious even to her. "General Disarray?" he repeated when he got no response and began looking for his minion. "Oh Jesus!" he exclaimed as he realized he was all alone.

A dark shadow fell over him and he froze in place for a moment. Slowly, he began turning towards where the shadow was darkest but before he could say anything, Mysterion struck him down, his fist planting itself directly into Chaos' face.

Back on his ass, Professor Chaos clutched as nose and cried out, "I dink you broke mah nose! Again!"

Another vicious punch from Mysterion ended Chaos' agony as he was sent to dreamland.

Kinda anticlimactic but who was _Le Chat Noir_ to argue? Right then, she didn't see it as such as her heart was pounding harder and harder beneath her chest and she couldn't explain all these weird emotions she was feeling.

Then Mysterion turned his gaze to her and the anger she could feel directed towards her put an end to those emotions.

"Are you satisfied yet?" Mysterion demanded as he approached her cage, unquestionably furious at her.

She blinked but couldn't find anything to say to it. She had never seen Mysterion this angry before nor had she ever seen him this angry with her. But why was he angry?

Suddenly, Mysterion's hand was through the bars and gripping the front of her outfit, pulling her roughly up against the bars so that her face was closer to his pissed-off one. The fury that she could see in his blue eyes were so mesmerizing and—

"Wake up!" Mysterion snarled at her. "Are you seriously going to play the lovestruck card on me? Allow me to inform you that you aren't the first to look at me in that way but like everyone else who has given it to me, I'm going to shoot you down."

"W-what?" she stammered. "But—"

"You think you're the first?" Mysterion snapped. "You are far from the first but you are the first to actually dress up and try to fight crime in the hopes of getting my attention. And right now, I'm getting sick and tired of it!"

_Le Chat Noir_ swallowed, unable to say anything because she felt that if she did, it would only make things worse.

"I could be out there, saving someone who needs saving but here I am busy cleaning up your mess!" Mysterion continued mercilessly. "You want to be a big time crimefighter? Like others before you, your motivation is so wrong."

"Then why do you do it?" she asked quietly.

"Why?" Mysterion replied back, almost as softly. "I do it because I need to, not because I want to and that's the difference between me, you, the Coon, and everyone else in this town who wants to fight crime just because they think it will make them cool." Without warning, his other hand snaked into the cage and grabbed her mask, pulling it off to reveal the freaked out Roxi Thame beneath it. "I rescued you because you were in trouble Roxi, because no one deserved to go through what was about to happen to you. And I don't regret doing it."

Oh God, now that her mask was gone, she felt so naked. If anyone was to look at them, they would know that she, the fabulous Roxi, was _Le Chat Noir_!

"But look at what you're doing," Mysterion said as he released her, both from his grip on her outfit and a moment later her small prison. With an outstretched arm, he gestured to Wendy's crumpled form. "Wendy is your friend, isn't she? I don't know why she was out here but I believe she was looking for you because she has the idea that you're some kind of menace. How she came up with that, your guess is as good as mine, but the fact remains that she was hurt tonight."

She…she had forgotten about Wendy there for a moment. And Wendy had saved Mysterion, hadn't she? It was Wendy who had stopped Professor Chaos from lowering her hero, her idol, into that pond of acid and not _Le Chat Noir_ who was trapped in a pathetic cage.

She remembered that Wendy had showed up to her home because she was worried about her, despite the misguided belief that she had been raped. Had Wendy gone up to her room and then rushed out, hoping to find her? That would mean…

"Do you see now?" Mysterion asked, somewhat calmed down but still retaining some anger. "Do you see how your actions can impact the lives of others? This business is not something you can get into and expect to get out untouched. Before it gets worse, Roxi, leave it. Do it before others you care about get hurt. Both you and I know that you're not cut out for this, not because you can't do it but because you're above it.

"You're about life, Roxi, about having fun. About friends, music, and just having a good time. This isn't you. Le Chat Noir isn't you. Put the mask away before it can consume you and leave you wondering who the mask is and who is more real, Roxi Thame or Le Chat Noir. You'll lose yourself before you know it so leave it before it's too late. As a favor to me."

And then he was away from her side and at Professor Chaos' with whom he was pulling up onto his shoulder. With blood smearing onto his cape from Professor Chaos' broken nose, he sent one last look at her before calmly walking around the truck and out of her sight.

Roxi continued to stand there, watching the last place she had last seen Mysterion. His words were filling her head and she could think of nothing else other than his plea. Was he right? She didn't want to think so but this night had not happened like she hoped it would. Instead of taking Professor Chaos down, she had been trapped and Mysterion had to save her, again.

Was she not cut out for all this? Did he have a poi—

She was abruptly pulled out of her thoughts as she was tackled from the side by some unknown assailant whose hands were trying their best to throttle her.

"I am going to fucking kill you!" a voice that she barely recognized as belonging to Mari declared.

"M-Mari?" she choked out as Mari's hands managed to find purchase.

"Because of you, I have had the worst night ever!" Mari roared. "It's bad enough that Wendy dragged me around like some kind of dog but I stepped into a fucking bear trap! Who the fuck puts a bear trap in the middle of nowhere!"

"You're…choking…me…" Roxi gasped out. "Need…air…"

"Not until you turn blue!" Mari commanded.

The sounds of asphyxia and unbridled fury would continue for minutes to come.

* * *

><p>Mysterion let out a long suffering sigh.<p>

He had left Butters and his lackey Dougie at their homes to wake up from their bouts of unconsciousness. He would deal with the two of them later when he had calmed down from his frustration over the Roxi/Le Chat Noir shit.

He didn't trust himself from holding back on the two morons despite the fact that they had come up with quite the elaborate plan to get rid of him. Even if they got close to killing him. He couldn't be too hard or else it would be more like bullying than anything.

He didn't want to be like that. He needed to keep some honor while dealing with dishonorable people or one day he would wake up and realize that he had become the very thing he was fighting against.

But really, Roxi was getting on his last nerve. Mysterion feared that if she didn't keep aggravating him even with her good intentions then he was going to break and become the thing he didn't want to be.

It was the risk he took every night.

Maybe he needed some downtime, take a bit of a break. As Kenny McCormick, he should be prepping himself for the prom elections and getting ready for Cartman's retaliation. He should also be resting up so that he could take whatever Cartman would throw at him.

His sense of duty must be too strong, he supposed.

Well, now that he was thinking about this, perhaps he ought to get back home and maybe go to bed. Get some rest. Feel better so that he could put his all into running his campaign and fighting crime.

Might as well. With as frustrated as he felt, he might do something that he would seriously regret. The roofs of South Park's residential district would be his road to his side of town and he would be able to see if there was anything going on there that he needed to check into.

Home invasions, burglaries, Cartman plotting, the usual stuff.

It was luck that he spotted the car when he did. If he hadn't seen the light from the car or the fact that no one was moving around didn't arouse his suspicions, he wouldn't have gone down there to see what the problem was.

It was then that he discovered Bebe.

Her head was matted and caked with blood that was only just beginning to dry. Large bruises were starting to color one side of her face, leading the hero to conclude that she had been hit in the head. Hard or repeatedly, he did not know yet. At least she was unconscious because he could see that she was still breathing.

But who would attack Bebe?

Then he spotted the folded piece of paper that was in her hand. It wasn't crinkled and since the paper was still smooth it led the detective hero to conclude that it was placed in her hand after she had been knocked out.

Removing it, he unfolded it, taking in the words that had been formed from letters that had been cut out from what looked like magazines then glued onto the paper.

DRoP ouT Of ProM quEEn eLEcTIoN

Mysterion narrowed his eyes at the message. Looking back at Bebe, his anger began to stir again yet he was mindful about not crumpling the paper. Being attentive, he carefully refolded the paper and placed it back into her hand so that the police would be able to find it. Exactly the same place where he had found it.

Stepping away from Bebe, Mysterion stole over to Bebe's home's front door and then obnoxiously rang the doorbell. To complete his game of ding dong ditch, Mysterion ran from the scene, making his way across the street and onto a random house's roof, staying only to see if anybody would answer.

Sure enough, someone was home and did answer and it didn't take them long to find Bebe where she lay.

Knowing that the poor girl would get the help she needed, Mysterion took his leave but the fiery anger that had been lit within him had remained.

He was going to find out who was responsible for this and bring unto them justice.


	14. Backroom Deals

Author's Note: Poll ends on March 24, which is this Saturday, tomorrow. Better get your votes in by midnight. Enjoy.

Disclaimer: I do not own South Park.

Warning: language

Backroom Deals

Late night calls were the worst and it was doubly so when you had to drive all the way to South Park of all places. Sergeant Harrison Yates, like most in the Park County Police Department, only trusted the local cops here for things like domestic disturbances, crowd control, and the occasional backup. So when reports of an assault came in, he had to get out of his warm bed, leave his Irish wife who always understood him, and head out with Murphy to the Stevens' residence.

The victim was already at Hells Pass but they would get around to interviewing her when she woke up. In the meantime, it was securing the scene of the crime and collecting evidence.

For Yates, he was taking the statements of the Stevens girl's parents and a couple things didn't seem to be adding up.

"So you're sure you didn't hear someone beat the shit out of your daughter?" he asked.

The mother looked aghast. "No!" she protested. "I just saw her leave the house! After that, I heard nothing outside!"

"Did you know she was taking her car because some of the guys outside think she was," he said. "Didn't you think it odd when you didn't hear the sound of a car engine?"

"Not from the kitchen," the mother answered. "The kitchen's all the way in the back of the house and one of my shows was on. I had to give all my attention to that."

"Which shows?" he asked.

"Well, one of those shows is called 'The News,'" the mother said. "The subplot of Iran getting nuclear weapons is keeping me on the edge of my seat!"

Yates raised an eyebrow at that.

Continuing on without a care, the mother added, "And there's these four men trying to become president and they say the darnest things, like we have a black president and putting aspirin in women's vaginas."

Yeah, it was looking like this woman really had no idea about what happened with her daughter's assault.

"Yeah, well, that's all the questions I have right now," he said, shutting his pocket notebook with a snap. "Do you know where your husband is? I'd like to ask him about this."

"Oh, he's out," the mother said perkily.

"Out…doing what?" Yates asked.

"Oh, he doesn't tell me anything and when I ask, he tells me that he's not in a motel room with his secretary getting it on."

He was going to have to look into that. You know. For pointers—er, advice on what he shouldn't do in a monogamous relationship.

Leaving the house, he headed over towards the driveway where the assault had taken place. He could see the somewhat still wet stain of blood on the concrete and had to duck under the yellow tape that was blocking the scene off.

"What ch'you got, Murphy?" he asked, coming up to his usual partner.

"Not much," Murphy said. "Other than finding out that the victim really got her ass handed to her, we don't have much. Well, one of the lab geeks found this." He held up a folded piece of paper which Yates took as soon as it was offered.

Opening it up, he frowned at the message that was pasted onto it. "My God," he said softly.

"What is it?" Murphy asked.

"We're dealing with political terrorists," he said solemnly. "Damn it! What kind of world are we living in if someone is attacked because they are running for prom queen? It's not right, Murphy! It's not!"

"We'll catch the bastards who did this," Murphy tried to soothe him. "If you could stop the former Govenator from freezing all of South Park, you can catch the terrorist assholes who did this."

"I pray that you're right Murphy," Yates closed his eyes melodramatically. "I hope that you're—what's _he_ doing here?" His dramatic moment was interrupted as he opened his eyes and spotted the last person he liked having to work with.

Woken up by the lights from the law enforcement vehicles, the residents of this town were gathering close to the Stevens' house but were headed off by none other than the head of the local police.

"Go back to your homes, there's nothing to see here," Officer Barbrady called out as he moved back and forth between the PCPD and the townsfolk.

"Oh, crowd control," Murphy said, explaining what the infamous bumbling cop of South Park was doing there.

"Townsfolk," Yates snorted. "You'd think they'd never seen a crime scene before." Narrowing his eyes as something caught his attention, he asked, "Hey, who's that guy with him?"

"That's the new South Park officer," Murphy answered. "Barbrady introduced him as his new slave."

"Ah, so another poor chum wants to get in on the action and thinks starting at a small town would be the best place to start," Yates shook his head sadly. "I give him a month before he runs out of town."

"Month and a half," Murphy responded. "Guy looks like he's a fish, straight out of the academy."

"Unlucky son of a bitch," Yates commented. "Well, it's not our problem if he barely graduated from the academy. Heh, I remember when I went to the academy. Best time of my life until I graduated and had to go into the real world."

"Yeah," Murphy agreed with a sigh.

"Christ, look at us, grown men thinking about the past," Yates snorted. "We got work to do, political terrorists to catch, wives to not bang."

"True dat," Murphy agreed.

* * *

><p>By Monday morning, everybody had heard about Bebe. How could they not, though? News like this tended to spread quickly in a small town and South Park was no exception to that.<p>

"Did you hear about Bebe?"

"Yeah! Sucks to be her, right?"

"Who would do such a thing?"

"She's still alive, right?"

"Ay! Why the hell is everybody giving that bimbo slut all the attention? I'm running for Prom King here!"

All this and more were whispered, and sometimes yelled, throughout the hallways of South Park High, sometimes alternating in wording depending on who it was who spoke.

Then the call for all Prom Queen candidates to go to the principal's office prompted more rumors to erupt, a popular and logical one gaining more and more speed with each telling. Could it be that one of the candidates had been the one to attack Bebe? It made sense because many of the nominees were desperate enough to want the crown that narrowing the field would be to their advantage. But who of the remaining eight was desperate enough?

"I bet it was that Rory chick. The girl's so high strung that she could snap at any time."

"I think it was Heidi. She's been in Bebe's shadow for how long? I think she feels that it's her time to be popular."

"It's gotta be one of the parties. LESBIAN or MUFFDIVER. Bebe was an independent."

"What about the quiet ones? Bonnie and Violet. It's always the quiet ones, you know?"

"It's gotta be Kyle. You can't trust a Jew to campaign fairly."

"Fuck you fatass!"

"Screw you Jew!"

Whatever the case may be, seven girls and one boy who shouldn't have been there but was stood in front of desk of Principal Victoria, where the principal herself, Mr. Mackey the counselor, and prom committee chairman Bain Cynis stared the assorted group down.

"I'm not going to bullshit here, I know you young ladies…and guy…have heard all the talk in the hallways," Principal Victoria stated. "You've undoubtedly heard the theory that one of you eight may have been the one to attack Bebe Stevens."

"That is ridiculous!" Gwendolyn Long protested. "I would never do such a thing like that!"

"Yeah!" a few of the other girls chimed in, also proclaiming their innocence.

"I don't even want to be here!" Kyle added, very disgruntled.

"I am not saying that any of you did attack Bebe," Principal Victoria said, "but at the same time, I can't dismiss it. This year's prom elections have been charged more so than they ever have before. There's undue stress being placed on you that shouldn't be there and if any of you feel like you're about to crack, please seek out Mr. Mackey. It's his job to help you through any crisis you might have."

"That's true, m'kay," Mr. Mackey supported.

"I don't know about the others here, but I can assure you that I am not stressed in the slightest," Gwendolyn claimed. "But why are you looking at us? The guy you should be looking at for attacking Bebe is standing right next to you."

"I assure you, I have an alibi for that night, m'kay," Mr. Mackey defended.

"She wasn't talking about you," Heidi Turner stated, subtly glaring at the other male beside Principal Victoria.

"Do you really believe I would lower myself to attacking girls in the middle of the night?" Bain retorted.

"Yes," every female with the exception of the principal said.

Bain narrowed his eyes at the group but said nothing else.

"Cool it," Principal Victoria warned. "Regardless of what you may think, I called all of you girls, and Kyle, here because I want to make sure that you're playing by the rules. That means no physical assaults and the minimal amount of negative ads. Do I make myself clear?"

"Um, Principal Victoria? Since Bebe is dropping out, does that mean I can too?" Kyle asked hopefully.

"I'm working on it Kyle," Principal Victoria said quickly, pointedly looking away from the male prom queen candidate.

"Oh come on!" Kyle complained.

Ignoring the Jew, Principal Victoria pinned the remaining girls with a serious look. "Do I make myself clear girls?"

A heartbeat of silence and then begrudgingly, the girls answered that yes, they did understand.

"You can go back to your classes," Principal Victoria dismissed. "Oh, and Bain? Could you stay a bit longer."

The shortest male in the room who had been planning on leaving as well remained rooted to the spot he was standing on, patiently waiting for the Prom Queen nominees to leave. Once the door shut behind them, Principal Victoria exhaled loudly and rubbed her temples.

"Of all the things to happen, this was this was the last thing I expected," Principal Victoria stated, her comment aimed at Bain. "I agreed to sit back and let things play out, just as you said. Care to explain why one of my students was attacked, Mr. Cynis?"

"I did not foresee it either," Bain admitted begrudgingly.

"Did not? You're the one who is supposed to be making sure that none of this gets out of hand!" Principal Victoria exclaimed, Mr. Mackey physically backing her up without having to say anything.

"Like you, I believed that the most trouble would have been coming from the boys," Bain replied. "Theirs is the one that's the perfect storm for chaos! How could you expect me to expect something this dramatic from the girls, hmm? And before you say anything, if you had an idea that the girls may have been capable of this, why didn't _you_ inform me of it?"

"Look, see here, m'kay," Mr. Mackey cut in, trying to break the argument up early. "I can see that you're both under a lot of stress, m'kay. But right now is not the time to be at each other's throats. We need to hang in together if we're going to get through this."

"I don't like it," Principal Victoria stated. "Perhaps we should cancel the elections this year and just have the prom by itself."

"Do you think the student body would allow that?" Bain snorted. "And even if you did overrule them, you'd have the parents riding on you about it. And the pressure the parents will give you will be worse. The only choice we have is to go through with this election."

The student had a point. Even if she did overrule the students, the students' parents, nay, the whole adult population of South Park would rise up against her. South Park was a place of tradition and tradition dictated that every graduating class had a prom queen and king elected at the prom. Defy tradition and every redneck in this town would be hunting her down.

She really had no choice but to go through with this, didn't she?

"But what about the students' safety?" she protested. "I will not risk another student being assaulted! That note the police found on Bebe means that whoever attacked her is going to attack again!"

"Then put bring out some protocols," Bain said. "Tell them that they need to be around someone they know at all times. Curfew. Bodyguards. Whatever. Call them back here after school and tell them that if they want to remain on the ballot, they will follow these new rules."

"Not a bad idea but we can't afford to supply bodyguards; we're just a school," Mr. Mackey pointed out.

"Make them pay for it," Bain snorted. "This is voluntary, isn't it? They don't follow the rules, they're off the ballot."

"Jesus," Principal Victoria swore. "Fine. We'll do it your way."

"If that is all?" Bain asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Fine, go back to class," the principal sighed, dismissing the short male. As soon as Bain left, Principal Victoria groaned and leaned over her desk. "I need a drink…"

"I think I got some scotch in my office," Mr. Mackey offered.

"Why do you have alcohol on school grounds?" Principal Victoria frowned at the school counselor.

"How else do you think I can listen to all those kids' problems and still show them I care?" Mr. Mackey replied.

"Get me the whole bottle," Principal Victoria said and leaned back in her chair, already knowing full well that this was all just the beginning.

* * *

><p>It was annoying Stan, distracting him from his lunch which was never a good thing.<p>

"Alright, how long are you going to drag this out?" Stan demanded, facing Cartman.

"I don't know what you mean, Stan," Cartman said dismissively.

"Him," Stan gestured with a hand.

"Him who?" Cartman asked.

"The fag that's pretending to be a secret service agent," Stan stated.

Cartman held an arm out, blocking the way of his "bodyguard" who looked like he wanted to beat the shit out of the jock. "I wouldn't do that if I were you," Cartman said simply. "Though a fag he may look, Jake here is anything but."

"You told me this would make me look butch," Jake growled at Cartman. Then as an afterthought, "And when are you going to let me eat? It's fucking lunch and I'm starving!"

"You have to wait until I've had my fill first, Jake," Cartman said. "I have to be fully nourished if I'm to kick some pussies' asses in this election and it's your job to make sure that I can do that."

"Can't you just give him something?" Kenny asked sympathetically. "If he has to wait for you to 'fully nourish' yourself, he'll starve to death."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Cartman demanded, narrowing his eyes at the tired-looking blond.

"He means that you eat everything in sight, chubby," Stan said.

"Jake, you have my permission to put a cap in this asshole's ass," Cartman said, his ire now drawn to Stan.

"About time," Jake muttered as he reached into his suit jacket.

"You're both being ridiculous," Craig stated from his seat where he was both listening in and ignoring the conversation.

"What's that supposed to mean, Craig?" Cartman demanded.

"Why do you need a bodyguard in the first place?" Craig pointed out.

"I'm just taking the natural precautions," Cartman sniffed. "We all know what happened to Bebe. I might be the next one!"

"Who would want to attack—" Stan began but was then cut off by Cartman.

"Jews," Cartman said simply. "They don't want a candidate who will tell the truth about them. They fear that I'll expose them for the greedy, Jesus-killing pagans that they really are."

"Right, what was I thinking?" Stan rolled his eyes.

"See? You're finally beginning to see the truth!" Cartman said.

"You mean that your ever-increasing weight is about to break the bench you're sitting on?" Kenny suggested.

"Screw you, poor boy!" Cartman snapped.

"I think you were the one to attack Bebe," Craig said simply.

"What the fuck Craig?" Cartman snarled at the stoic teen. "Where'd you get that fucking idea? I would never—"

"Eliminate the competition and the need for a prom queen so that you can rule the school alone with an iron fist?" Craig finished for him. "You must really think I'm stupid."

"Don't you mean we're?" Stan asked.

"No, because you're stupid. Kenny too," Craig replied.

"Harsh," Kenny complained.

"I am appalled," Cartman exclaimed, aghast. "To think one of my rivals would accuse me of such!"

"Umm, can I still cap Stan's ass?" Jake asked, his hand still in his suit jacket as if he was gripping something and had yet to take it out.

"Hey you, gay kid," Craig called out to Cartman's bodyguard. "How much is he paying you?"

After getting over the gay comment, Jake gave the question some thought. Then looking over at Cartman, he asked, "Am I getting paid?"

"Of course you are!" Cartman declared. "What better payment is there than to have people stop call you gay because you're a butch bodyguard?"

"Being butch is all fine and dandy but it won't pay the bills," Craig commented from his seat.

"He's got a point," Kenny shrugged.

"Oh? What would you know about money, Craig?" Cartman hissed.

"Token stated a super PAC for me," Craig stated. "It's already raised over five hundred dollars over the weekend. Do you know how many posters that can buy?"

"F-five hundred dollars?" Cartman stuttered.

"Yep, it keeps raking in the loot," Craig said.

"That's…that's…that's awe—I mean unfair!" Cartman cried.

"What's unfair about it?" Craig asked simply.

"You have five hundred dollars to spend on advertisement and no one else does!" Cartman exclaimed. "It's not right! It's not fair! How will anybody know how awesome I am if all they see is you!"

"Beats me," Craig shrugged.

"You know what? This school needs to know that there are other candidates than you Craig!" Cartman declared. "I challenge you to a debate!"

"Oh no," Stan moaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. He knew where this was going…

"In fact, I challenge everyone one running for prom king to a debate!" Cartman raised his voice so that others in the cafeteria could hear him. "Tonight, everybody is going to see what a snake in the grass you are Craig!"

"How are you going to pay for it?" Kenny asked, curious.

"I think Craig's super PAC could foot the bill," Cartman said darkly.

"I don't control that money. Token gets to spend it however he wants," Craig said.

"Then call Token's bitch ass and tell him to use it for the debate!" Cartman demanded.

From his seat on the far side of the table, Butters, whose nose was plastered up, piped up with in a nasally tone. "Acktually, Eric, super PACs are independent from dose dey support. Craig cain't tell Token what to do."

"How do you know all that?" Stan asked.

"CNN," Butters answered.

"Alright, fine!" Cartman spat. "I'll find someone to fund the debate so you assholes better be ready! Come on fag; stop rubbing your nipples or whatever the hell you're doing," he snapped at Jake who narrowed his eyes at Cartman.

"I am not gay!" he bellowed after the fat teen who was stalking away.

"Whatever makes you sleep at night now come on!" Cartman ordered.

* * *

><p>"You know what? I'm mad and I'm not going to take it anymore."<p>

Marcus jerked his head up from what he was doing, surprised by the admission from his superior. Barbrady had spoken up without warning and thus had left Marcus a bit off guard from the stool he sat on.

When Barbrady was not forthcoming with any other information, Marcus hesitantly asked, "Um, what are you mad about?"

"I'm mad about something?" Barbrady asked, looking over at Marcus with his eyes still covered by those dark sunglasses of his which he never seemed to take off. Why he was still wearing them indoors continued to elude the young officer of the law.

"You…you just said that you were mad," Marcus said.

"I did?" Barbrady said, ever more confused.

"You said that you were mad and weren't going to take it anymore," Marcus repeated the phrase that Barbrady said out of nowhere.

"Oh," Barbrady said, remaining quiet for a moment. Just as Marcus was going to speak up, Barbrady said, "That's right. I'm mad and I'm not going to take it anymore."

"Take what anymore?" Marcus asked.

"You know those Park County cops?" Barbrady asked before continuing without waiting for an answer. "I know what they think of me and let me tell you, it makes me mad. They think that just because I'm a small town cop and they're big time county cops that they're better than me."

"Now I don't think…" Marcus protested weakly.

"You're young; you have yet to get into the politics that goes with being a cop," Barbrady said. "It's a tough world out there Mark."

"My name's Marcus," Marcus corrected.

"Right," Barbrady nodded. "Anyway, those county police guys are taking on that big political attack case. You know what the problem is? It should be my case, that's what it should be. I can solve a case when I put myself into it!"

"Of course you can," Marcus agreed.

"In fact, a few years ago, I solved a big time TP case," Barbrady bragged. "Yeah, it took a lot of work but I solved it. I bet if I could, I could solve this case just as easily as that one!"

"I bet you could to," Marcus said, thinking that that was the end of it.

"Say, why don't I try and solve it?" Barbrady said out loud. "Screw those county guys! I, no, we'll show them just what South Park is made of and solve this case ourselves!"

"We?" Marcus repeated, staring at his superior with wide eyes. For some reason, he was getting the feeling that things were starting to spin out of control. Don't ask him why he felt like that, he just did.

"Well, I can't do this alone," Barbrady rationalized. "Besides, you're here. I can't let you sit around and waste tax dollars. That's what the mayor told me anyway."

"Uh huh," Marcus grunted, not knowing what else to say.

"So what are you doing sitting there? Get your hands on whatever the county guys have and be quick about it!" Barbrady ordered. "I have to make an appointment with an expert so we can solve this thing as quick as possible!"

"Right, right," Marcus sighed, bowing to his superior's whim. Pausing, he asked out loud, "Expert?"

* * *

><p>Gwendolyn was pissed at the insinuation that she would have physically hurt someone in order to win this election. By extension, she figured that would mean the rest of MUFFDIVER was also pissed about it.<p>

At least Ella was pissed about it, that much Gwendolyn could say with certainty. While the taller girl had been more laidback and willing to do what she was instructed to do by the MUFFDIVER leader, apparently the thought of anyone accusing her of sabotage was enough to really piss her off.

In fact she was so pissed that she had usurped Gwendolyn's position as leader and was wielding the abandoned gavel of Judge G. Douché mercilessly.

"I want to know right now who attacked Bebe!" Ella growled menacingly. "I may not be her biggest fan but I draw the line right here! No one hurts another girl on my watch! So who did it?"

"Why are you looking at us?" Gwendolyn demanded, wanting to show that she was loyal to the group as well as indignant that Ella would think a MUFFDIVER would ever stoop this low. It would score her some points among the girls, that was for sure, and would give her own plans more leverage. "What makes you think any of us would hurt Bebe? Why aren't you looking at LESBIAN?"

"Because LESBIAN is full of pussies who would faint at the first hint of violence," Ella replied easily. "Plus, they're so full of themselves and are willing to compromise with one another so much that the idea of hurting someone would never occur to them?"

"And that makes you think it was a MUFFDIVER?" Gwendolyn asked dryly.

"We're willing to go further than any LESBIAN would go to get our men," Ella pointed out. "What's to say that one of us isn't out there eliminating the competition so that either you, Violet, or me gets elected prom queen and gets to marry the guy we love? We formed this group so that we can all find love, remember?"

"I recall that I was the one to form the group but whatever," Gwendolyn said.

"I think it's best we find out who beat Bebe up," Ella said. "That way people will like us more and one of the MUFFDIVER nominees has a better chance of winning."

Ella was starting to become a worthy rival, Gwendolyn mused. The way she was taking command was really impressing some of the other girls. Then again, when she wasn't with MUFFDIVER, Ella could be seen chatting it up with the guys more often than not. Perhaps some of the guys' brazenness rubbed off on her.

Already, Gwendolyn could hear the murmurs of agreement among her fellow girls and for a moment, she felt like she was losing them. Their support that is. Support for her to remain in change, exactly how Gwendolyn liked it. She had better act fast or before she knew it, there would be another ousting a la LESBIAN.

Gwendolyn would be damned if she lost control of a second group!

"All right," she said and turned towards the other girls. "You heard her. Is there something anybody would like to confess?"

It was quiet, every girl looking at one another suspiciously, as if the attacker was in their midst. Unexpectedly, Violet raised her hand up.

"Um, okay, you, Violet," Gwendolyn said, gesturing towards the raised hand.

"I'd just like to say that I'm thinking of dropping out. Of the election," Violet said, standing up so that everyone would be able to see her easier.

"Oh?" Gwendolyn raised an eyebrow. Could it be another of her competition was about to leave?

"Why?" Ella asked, obviously caught off guard. For a second, the muscular girl must have thought that Violet was about to confess to something else, i.e. the topic of their current discussion.

This ought to be good.

"Well, I got into this to try and see if I could get together with Kyle," Violet explained, gathering courage with each word she said. "And since he's been nominated for Prom Queen, I don't think that I could win with him being King so… And besides, I asked him out and he said yes."

Gwendolyn felt like the floor had dropped from under her. _What?_

The room erupted into whispers, some of the girls congratulating Violet on bagging her man. And then Gwendolyn felt it. Jealousy. Some anger but a lot of it was jealousy. It was supposed to be her, Gwendolyn, who got Stan before anybody else got theirs! She was supposed to capture the heart of her one true love before everyone! This wasn't how things were supposed to work!

And now here was someone who she barely knew existed beforehand getting closer and closer to the goal that brought all the individuals here together.

Yes, this rankled deeply in her keister.

"That's great!" Ella exclaimed, happy for the smaller girl.

"Yeah but there's one problem," Violet admitted.

"What's that?" Ella asked.

"Someone else wants Kyle too," Violet said.

"And who would that be?" Ella asked, her demeanor becoming more serious.

"Damien the Antichrist," Violet answered immediately.

Hold up. What?

"Are you joking?" Gwendolyn asked. "You mean to tell me the guy with the weird name who also happens to be running for Prom King has his eyes on another guy? Your guy?"

"Yes," Violet answered softly. "He was the one who got Kyle nominated for Prom Queen."

How was that…? When she had first started MUFFDIVER, she had never considered the possibility that they would have to compete with a homosexual party for a guy. It was supposed to be girl against girl in a fight for the heart of their men.

This was taking a turn into weirdness, a kind of weirdness that could only happen in…

…in South Park.

Duh.

When the silence extended for too long, Violet began to babble. "Kyle's gonna be taking me out to a carnival in the next few days but I'm afraid that Damien's going to try and show up and mess everything up and I just want to have a good time and…"

And on and on she droned though Gwendolyn was slightly impressed at how long the smaller girl could talk without pausing for breath. She was going on and on and on and on and—

Alright, it was going on for too long.

"Hold up, hold up," Ella interrupted, beating Gwendolyn to the punch. "Kyle's taking you out and you're afraid Damien's gonna mess it up?"

"Yes," Violet answered.

"Want us to run interference?" Ella asked.

"Would you?" Violet asked hopefully.

"Of course we would!" Gwendolyn managed to cut in. "If one of us succeeds in getting their man then it's only a matter of time until we all do. Isn't that right?" she added loudly, speaking to the other girls. Directing her attention towards a loan figure in the back, Gwendolyn called out, "Hey you! LESBIAN spy girl!"

"DJ," LESBIAN spy girl corrected surly.

"Whatever," Gwendolyn said dismissively. "Find out everything you can about this Damien guy. I want to know his life story by tomorrow morning!"

"Forgetting something?" DJ asked, staring the MUFFDIVER leader down.

"I don't think I am," Gwendolyn said after some thought.

"Are you telling me you haven't got any dirt on Bain yet?" DJ deadpanned.

Dirt on Bain? Why did she want them to get that terroristic midget dirty? Oh wait, now she remembered. "He put himself in charge of prom committee," she shrugged.

"I already know that," DJ growled. "The whole school knows it. Everyone and their mother knows it."

"My mother doesn't know," Violet piped up.

"We have a deal, remember?" DJ stated. "I've told you everything about LESBIAN and you haven't done shit about paying me back with what I asked for. At least LESBIAN has given me more to work with than you have."

Okay, that ticked her off. LESBIAN was doing something better than MUFFDIVER?

"Why don't you see if he was involved with what happened to Bebe?" she suggested sourly. A memory occurred to her. "I think he once kidnapped Bebe and shaved all the hair off her head. Perhaps he went back to hurt her more or something. Now will you go find out about Damien before Violet's big night?"

DJ put a hand out. "That information sucked," she stated. "Since our deal wasn't to go after Damien, here's where you give me a different payment. Cold hard cash. Fifty bucks. Now."

"Isn't helping to make a girl's dreams come true payment enough?" Gwendolyn asked, hoping to appeal to whatever shred of decency DJ may have.

"Not at all," DJ said, not having a shred of decency in the first place. "Cash or nothing."

"Bloodsucker," Gwendolyn growled as she fetched her purse. Money had never been an issue for her due to her parents being loaded and willing to give her whatever she wanted but damn it, it was the principal of the matter!

"Sticks and stones," DJ replied as Gwendolyn slapped the cash into her waiting hand. "Nice doing business with you," she added snarkily as she took her leave.

"There, it's all being taken care of," Gwendolyn said after the spy left, turning to look at Violet proudly.

"You guys, you're all so good to me," Violet said.

"We MUFFDIVERs have to stick together!" Gwendolyn declared, feeling the admiration from the other girls directed towards. Oh, she was getting their support now! Perhaps that fifty bucks had bought her more than just information.

* * *

><p>Though she was still sore about that night chasing Le Chat Noir and being knocked unconscious for her efforts, that was not the right reason why Wendy was peeved right now.<p>

Even though Roxi refused to talk about that night and Mari plain out didn't care to talk about anything, that didn't do anything to lessen her irritation as she sat in her seat, waiting for the prom committee meeting to start. She recalled a time when she was the one who was in charge of it and while they may not have made leeway into getting things ready for the big night, they had been starting to get into it when someone else forcefully took the reins from her.

And he was late. Not a very good impression for the person who was supposed to be in charge here. Maybe if he wasn't professional enough, Wendy would get her position back again. It was a lovely thought but like everything, she knew it wasn't going to be that easy.

Then Bain entered, "fashionably" late, naturally.

What could he be thinking, Wendy wondered to herself. Bain had abruptly opened the door to the classroom they were using, his trenchcoat billowing behind him like a cape due to how fast he was walking. His eyes glanced over them all and Wendy steeled her nerves for this.

"It figures that all I have to work with are girls," Bain sneered at them. "Still, beggars can't be choosers, I suppose."

He had a lot of nerve, that asshole.

"Let's get down to business, shall we?" Bain said more than suggested as he took a seat on top of the teacher's desk. "Welcome to Prom committee, etcetera, etcetera, now how are we going to make this party a reality?"

When no one said anything, Wendy felt that it was up to her to be the spokesman for the rest of the girls because, let's face it, Bain was the only guy in here. "You want input from the rest of us?" she asked skeptically.

"You think I'm going to do this alone?" Bain answered with a question. "I have a vision, Testaburger, but it's only part of one and where you come in is to fill in the blanks, so to speak."

"And then what?" she pressed.

"You make it a reality," Bain drawled. "What else were you expecting?"

"You're really mouthy, you know that? Why don't you speak up more in class?" Wendy commented.

"You're very opinionated, aren't you?" Bain stated. "I'm only 'mouthy,' as you put it, right now because circumstances demand it."

"Circumstances huh?" Wendy grunted. "What are you up to this time? Whatever it is, drop it so that we can work on prom and I'm in charge."

"Not anymore you're not," Bain drawled at her. "As stated in article 23, subsection eight point fourteen, also known as the Jack Bauer rule, when taking over someone's position of power, I am required to say the words 'not anymore you're not,' etcetera, now shut up unless you have something constructive to say, Testaburger."

Goddamn Jack Bauer rule.

There were a few "oh snaps" but Wendy ignored them as she glared the only male in the classroom down who, by the way, was unaffected by it. It only served to piss her off more.

"If no one has anything to contribute then I guess I'll have to start, won't I?" Bain said, his half-lidded eyes giving them a dead look. "I'm thinking the color blue for this event. Blue banners, blue ribbons all over the place. But it has to have a vintage feel, like you're stepping into the nineteen sixties or seventies."

Silence from the other girls who just listen and Wendy said nothing as she continued to stew in her own resentment.

"I find it hard to believe that none of you have anything to contribute to this discussion," Bain stated, crossing his arms over his chest. "You yak it up all throughout the day but now when you're permitted to speak, you say nothing."

"Maybe it's because no one wants to work with you?" Wendy spat at him.

"You know, you're only strengthening my case with the principal," Bain retorted. "I told her that none of you would do any work until the last minute and it seems like you're all proving me right. Uncanny how I was able to predict you, hmm?"

How he knew how to get under her skin, Wendy did not know but she was more than motivated to prove him wrong.

"Drop the ribbons. Too much work to do in the gym," she said, trading Bain look for look.

Bain merely smirked at her. "About that, this year's prom is not going to be held in the gymnasium."

Talk about coming from left field. "And when was that decided?" she demanded heatedly.

"When the school wanted to make it harder to sneak alcohol into the punch bowl," Bain answered lazily. "And that, ladies, is why today's meeting will be extended. You see, we're all going to take a field trip to nearby locations and decide which one will be best."

Already she was losing ground and Wendy was grasping at straws. She had no doubt that Bain had already done some maneuvering behind her back but she hadn't known to what extent. He had put her in the defensive position right off the bat and scored some points so now she was far behind. But she wasn't about to let this asshole get the better of her. If she could take Cartman down, she could do the same here.

Slowly, some of the other girls were beginning to venture out their thoughts and ideas and while Bain was being uncharacteristically cordial, Wendy knew that it was only a matter of time until the other shoe dropped.

But with the unexpected and suddenness of Bain's announcement that they were going out, Wendy wondered just what form of transportation they were going to have to take.

* * *

><p>Even though the bus was of the short kind and not the usual long type, the driver on the other hand was anything but anticipated.<p>

"What are you lookin' at?" the imfamous disgruntled bus driver sneered at the gaggle of prom committee students and Mackey. "Sit yer Goddamn ass on tha bus, asswipes!"

Goddamn it.

* * *

><p>In a random, smoke-filled backroom, a meeting of two minds was taking place.<p>

"That's the—cough!—deal," Cartman forced out, the tobacco fumes making it hard for him to breathe. "I need you to—cough!—make me a—cough cough!—super PAC so that I can beat everyone's—cough!—asses and become king—cough!"

"Tempting but what's in it for me?" Wolf Black inquired, his cheeks pink from coughing but able to tolerate more of the tobacco smoke.

"Damn it, can't we—cough cough cough—do this in a smoke free room?" Cartman demanded.

"You asked for a smoke-filled backroom—cough—and a smoke-filled backroom is what you get," Wolf replied. "The customer always gets what he wants."

"Can't fucking breathe," Cartman gasped. "Fuck it—cough! I'm opening a Goddamn window!"

A couple minutes later when some of the tobacco smoke had left the room and Cartman was better able to handle his breathing, he got back to business.

"Right, now where was I? Super PAC, okay, I'm tight on cash and need some extra funds," Cartman resumed. "I hear super PACs can get of lot of that and if I can have one support me, then I can better focus on running my campaign as I see fit."

"And how am I related to any of this?" Wolf asked, still not seeing what Cartman was trying to get at.

"Let me put it this way," Cartman said. "This is prime advertising you will get and the more people who know about the great bargains at Black Market, the more people you will have coming to your store. And if I get elected, I could pass some tax breaks your way."

Cartman knew he had his audience captive once he began alluding to money. Wolf truly was a simple creature in that if you held a five dollar bill in your hand, he would do anything to get that bill in his hands.

"So…if I start a super PAC for you and you win, you're going to make it so that I make even more money?" Wolf summarized.

"You got i—" Cartman found himself cut off as he exploded into a hacking fit, the tobacco smoke having a delayed effect despite the volume of it having decreased. Once he stopped trying to throw up his lungs, Cartman picked up where he left off. "Of course. I mean, with as much as you'll be making, you'll be able to branch out of South Park and into more lucrative markets, like Denver."

"Denver," Wolf mused, already thinking of the possibilities.

"You can only gain by supporting me Wolf," Cartman stated. "Don't let this opportunity pass you by and you have to declare bankruptcy because you weren't able to get more people buying from you."

Wolf remained silent for a few minutes, thinking over Cartman's proposal. Cartman was growing increasingly impatient the longer it took for Wolf to say anything. He did not want to sit around doing nothing when he could be doing something productive.

Like kicking everyone's asses in this election as well as that upcoming debate.

"I don't see how I can lose from this," Wolf shrugged. "Sure, I'll make a super PAC for you."

"Mr. Black, you have no idea how you're going to benefit from this," Cartman told him hungrily as he shook Wolf's hand.

* * *

><p>Not even a minute after Cartman left, Wolf was having additional thoughts.<p>

With a super PAC, he could fund a lot of candidacies if he wanted to. In fact, a bunch of them would probably be grateful for the financial support and give him what Cartman was offering if he asked for it in exchange for the cash.

In fact, why didn't he make super PACs for everyone? Then no matter who won, Wolf would win and Black Market could only prosper for it.

He sure did like making money.

The idea was looking better and better by the minute and Wolf was on the verge of moving away from theory and into practice.

* * *

><p>Author's Note: As a matter of curiosity, who do you guys think attacked Bebe? I've given you a few theories, a few suspects, but who do you think it is?<p> 


	15. 2012 Prom Debate

Author's Note: Poll's still open though not for long. Anyway, here's a chapter I've been dying to write ever since I started putting together the plot for _Malicious Motives_. If any of you have been paying attention to the Republican nomination process, then you know about all the gaffes. Well, I've taken many of those gaffes and squished them all into this chapter. Anyone care to guess which ones are real gaffes? Not going to put a disclaimer on them because who copyrights a gaffe anyway? If anyone can guess which ones are actual gaffes and guesses them all correctly, that person gets a chapter dedication next chapter. Limited time deal, once I post the next chapter and you haven't made a guess, the deal's off. Enjoy.

Disclaimer: I do not own South Park or Chris Wallace.

Warning: language

2012 Prom Debate

The last place Marcus expected to find himself when it came time to meet Barbrady's expert was inside the bowels of a juvenile detention center. That's right, the bowels. He hadn't even known there were bowels in a juvenile detention center.

There was a portion of the center that went underground, to a secure wing where only the most uncontrollable and dangerous juvenile offenders could be held.

"Now remember Marco," Barbrady said.

"Marcus," Marcus corrected.

"Marcus," Barbrady continued, correcting himself. "Try not to make contact with any of the other inmates. Some of them are very unstable and uncontrollable."

Marcus swallowed. He had never believed that he would ever have to deal with such violent offenders so early into his career and from how dark and dank his surroundings were quickly becoming, he was more than a little anxious.

But he had to put up a strong front and show no weakness. These inmates would eat him alive once that sensed his fear and he did not want that happening.

Exiting the small staircase, Marcus noted that they were in a long hallway, the wall to the right of them nothing but brick while the left held all the individual cells.

Marcus tried not to stare into the first cell though how could he not when it looked like half of Disneyland was in there? A small plaque next to the cell listed the name Romper Stomper though who would name their kid that, he did not know.

"Looks like the solitary is doing its job," Barbrady commented. "He hasn't smuggled in half of what he can usually get.

"He's in here for smuggling?" Marcus asked.

"Don't you know that every prison has a black market, not to be confused with Black Market, in here?" Barbrady asked. "Romper Stomper here practically owns it. He's a nice enough kid but the warden wanted to cut back on the goods that get sneaked in."

"But isn't this a juvenile detention center?" Marcus asked.

"Same thing as a prison," Barbrady shrugged.

The next cell look more what a prison cell ought to look like. Marcus had an easier time looking away from this inmate who's hardened eyes seemed to pierce, no not pierce, stab through his flesh and into his pitiable soul within. Marcus had to wonder if this person was really under eighteen as he was taller than him, Marcus, and had a body that was packed with solid muscle.

Trent Boyett, huh? He might have to…check into him.

"That's a classroom bully, the worst one you'll find anywhere," Barbrady explained. "He's only one step away from murder though, so you might not want to get close to him."

"It wasn't mah fault," Trent Boyett spat, glaring bloody murder at Barbrady.

Ignoring the comment, the pair soon came to the third cell where they came to a stop. Unlike the first two cells which had bars cutting the inmates off from them, this cell had a wall of plastic with air holes cut out of them.

Marcus found himself unnerved by the small form on the other side of that sheet of plastic, coal black eyes amusingly watching him and Barbrady hungrily. Even though the slight form was only dressed in the standard juvenile detention uniform, the teen's presence made him appear larger than life.

"Hey Josh, how's it hangin'?" Barbrady greeted to the inmate casually. Kinda sounded like Barbrady had dealt with him before.

"Officer Barbrady, I knew I recognized that aftershave," Josh greeted back in a sophisticated yet smug voice, the words coming out rapid-fire. "You bring company with you. How kind of you."

"Listen Josh, I have a big case on my hands and figured I could use your help," Barbrady said.

"Is it another TP case?" Josh asked. If Marcus didn't know better, he would have sworn that he sounded a bit eager there.

"Not this time," Barbrady said.

"Oh?" Josh raised a thin eyebrow that seemed to stop just under the slicked black hair that rested on top of his head. "You want to throw a curveball at me this time do you?"

That hunger had increased in intensity and Marcus felt like he was the proverbial antelope about to be devoured by a hungry lion. There was something not right with this kid…

Kinda reminded him of Bain for some reason.

"You remember the rules, Barbrady?" Josh asked unexpectedly.

"Oh, come on Josh!" Barbrady protested. "Do we really have to do that?"

"Come now Officer Barbrady. Look where I am," Josh said. Marcus would have thought the prisoner would have gestured with his arms but they had remained behind his back, the same posture since he had first seen him. "It's not often I get visitors and there is a certain lack of stimulation here. And toilet paper. I have to get what I can and my fellow inmates are not prone to conversation or sharing."

There was a snort from one of the other two cells they passed. From which one, it was not possible to say.

"Fine," Barbrady said with a sigh, giving up, his shoulders sagging. Marcus turned his attention towards his superior worriedly.

"It seems like I've squeezed you too much," Josh said, "so how about instead of you, I get what I want from your friend here?"

"Deal!" Barbrady agreed, snapping up and regaining his composure. Marcus boggled at the change.

"Don't I get a say in this?" he squawked.

"We all have to take one for the team sooner or later, Mike," Barbrady said. "It's just sooner for you."

"But!" Marcus tried to object but sputtered instead, unable to choose between further protesting or correcting Barbrady on his name again.

"You heard the man, a deal's a deal," Josh interrupted him. "So now, Mike…"

"It's Marcus," he corrected.

"Forgive me, I was under the impression that your name was Mike," Josh apologized though there was no sincerity in his voice.

"Let's stick with business, shall we?" Barbrady interrupted. "Last night, a young lady was attacked in front of her home by political terrorists." Barbrady held up a folder that he had somehow procured from the PCPD.

"Political terrorists? That's somewhat out of my league…" Josh said uneasily.

"We need to get all the help we can about this Josh," Barbrady argued. "We know that whoever did this will do so again."

"And you know this how?" Josh asked.

"He left a note," Barbrady explained helpfully.

"Interesting," Josh said to himself. Speaking back up to the two of them, "Before I look into the case, first thing is first." Those dark eyes were suddenly trained on him and Marcus felt like he was a bug under a microscope. Sort of like how Bain looked at him. "Tell me, Marcus, why did you want to become a police officer?"

"Why do you want…?" Marcus began to ask.

"Just answer the question, Officer," Josh interrupted.

Looking at Barbrady for help and only getting a "go on" look from his superior, Marcus felt that it would be best to give in. "Well, I just wanted to help people."

"You just wanted to help people hmm?" Josh repeated but said the words in a way that twisted them somehow. At least, that's the impression that Marcus got. "So you're devoted, what, ten years of your life to this profession because you wanted to help people?"

"I just graduated from the academy!" Marcus exclaimed a bit too loudly. "Do I look like I'm in my thirties or something?"

"Just graduated?" Josh widened his slightly, not expecting that. However, he quickly regrouped. "So what made you want to become a cop, Marcus?"

He didn't like how his name fell out of those lips. "Nothing made me, I chose to," he answered a bit more coldly than he had intended.

Josh took a deep breath, as if taking in the very smell of his answer. This was getting creepier by the minute. "Give me the file, Officer Barbrady."

"Here you go!" Barbrady said cheerfully as he placed the folder into a draw that was at the far end of the cell. Why was Marcus suddenly thinking _Silence of the Lambs_ all of a sudden?

"Tell me the gist of what this case is about, if you will _Marcus_," Josh order, making no attempt to take the folder.

Getting a look from Barbrady, Marcus figured that it would most likely be him who would do most of the talking. "A girl was going to go out and hang out with her friends when she was attacked from behind," he explained. "The attacker used blunt force trauma to knock her out but didn't seem to stop after that. The girl survived but some of her recollection was hazy. She was having problems remembering things that led up to the attack."

"So she didn't get a good look at the attacker," Josh concluded.

"That's what we seem to think," Marcus agreed. "The attacker left a note in her hand."

"And it said…?" Josh pressed.

"You could read about it in the file," Marcus said, gesturing towards the folder in question.

"I want to hear about it from you first," Josh stated, his tone brooking no argument.

"Fine, it told her to drop out from the prom elections," Marcus answered.

"That wasn't too hard, was it?" Josh teased before going back to business. "It appears to me that it could be one of this girl's competitors hoping to narrow the field down."

"Of course!" Barbrady exclaimed. "One of the other prom candidates!"

"Yes, but that's what it looks like with a glance," Josh replied. "This attack is an extreme example of trying to get rid of the competition, Officers. In politics, the usual way to do that is through threats and bribes. Violence only as a last resort and assassination when impatient or there's no other choice. There's a very good chance that it wasn't one of the other nominees but you can't exclude them just yet either, can you?"

That was a bit more insightful that Marcus could have expected.

"Quid pro quo, Officers," Josh said, changing the topic immediately. "Tell me, Officer Marcus, why are you patrolling in a small town? Where are your big city dreams? Why willingly come all the way out here once you left the academy?"

"Why all the personal questions?" Marcus asked defensively. "Do we really—"

"Please, _Marcus_," Josh interrupted. "Remember. Quid pro quo."

"Fine," Marcus spat out. "I wanted to start in a small town and work my way up. The city is too big and I would've been overwhelmed by it in no time."

"Why the low self-esteem, Officer? Did something happen to you in your past or was it someone?" Josh dug further.

"I don't have to justify myself to you!" Marcus declared, beginning to lose his patience. Now he was usually more level headed than this but there was something about Josh that really got under his skin.

"I never asked you to justify yourself," Josh replied, though whether it was done quickly or not could not be told as Josh was speaking rapidly in the first place.

"Why would you care about any of this, it's meaningless," Marcus grunted, crossing his arms over his chest defensively.

"Well…if you would be willing to give a roll of toilet paper, I might let it slide…" Josh suggested.

"You know you can't have any toilet paper Josh," Officer Barbrady decided to intervene. "Just tell us more about the girl's attacker already."

"Then not before your friend there tells me what I want to know," Josh insisted.

"Well, if you want to know so much, I would have gone to any small town but my girlfriend said this would be a good place to start," Marcus finally admitted, glaring slightly at the juvenile offender.

"Your girlfriend said South Park would be a good place to start?" Barbrady asked.

Josh merely inhaled deeply, eyes shut for a moment before he began speaking again. "Your attacker had something against the girl, not for who she was but for what she represented. The person who attacked her has something against prom or at least has something against prom queens. They could be anybody and that includes the prom queen nominees themselves.

"Before you go, would you do me the favor of mailing this letter to my pen pal? Thank you." Marcus raised an eyebrow distrustfully as Barbrady handed him the letter and his eyes narrowed slightly as he recognized the address on the envelope. Why was his girlfriend's parents' address written there? "Now I've told you all I know so go do your policemen work, Officers. Fly, fly."

With the boy's back towards them, dismissing them, the interview came to an end. Barbrady leading Marcus away, all the while telling him that he knew how he felt and that it wasn't worth it, he knew.

A moment later, the warden approached the cell and asked, "Josh, were you using the silly voice with the policemen again?"

"No sir," Josh answered, his voice no longer sophisticated and smug but soft, easy on the ears.

Soft as toilet paper, one might say.

* * *

><p>It was going to be a big night.<p>

Even though it was not him who was going to be in the spotlight, Kyle still felt nervous about the whole thing. Tonight would make or break someone out there and…and he was just nervous.

Kenny was going to be showing the world…or just their school all the reasons to vote for him or to not vote for him. The same went for the other five out there. While Stan was an opponent now, it didn't stop him from wishing his best friend luck but then there was Cartman.

Kyle had no doubt that if there was a way to cheat here, Cartman would try to find it. It would be incredibly difficult and even if Cartman succeeded at sabotaging the others, he could still bring himself down with his own words. Shoot himself in the foot if you would.

"Relax Kyle," Ike told him, his whole exterior calm. "Kenny can do this. We coached him all afternoon."

"I'm not worried about Kenny; I know he'll be awesome," Kyle replied.

"Then why are you so antsy?" Ike asked, giving the elder Broflovski an inquisitive look.

"Trying to think of all the ways Cartman could try and cheat," Kyle answered, not daring to look at Ike when he gave his answer.

"Trust me, there's no way Cartman could cheat here," Ike said slowly. "None of the guys running here were allowed onto the set beforehand so they couldn't set up nasty tricks. The only thing Cartman will have to work with here is if the others make gaffes."

"Christ, what if Kenny makes a gaffe?" Kyle bemoaned.

"Don't think that way!" Ike admonished. "Odds are good that Cartman will also make gaffes. It's almost impossible not to nowadays. Especially with social media sending out countless feeds everywhere and then the media. We've done all we can; just let Kenny do what he does best."

"What Kenny does best is usually X-rated," Kyle grumbled.

Then the two were no longer alone. "Hey Kyle, long time, no see," Gary the Mormon greeted cheerfully, Stan's girlfriend at his side.

"Oh, hey Gary," Kyle said back. "It's been a while."

"Definitely," Gary agreed. "So how are things going with you?"

"Good and bad," Kyle admitted as he folded his arms over his chest. "Good because Kenny's going to be kicking some ass out there."

"Why bad?" Gary asked.

"Bad because I'm nominated for a chick's position," Kyle growled, his thoughts drifting over to a certain demonic individual. Did he need to say he was still pissed off with that unholy bastard?

"Things will work themselves out," Gary shrugged.

"They tend to do that," Kyra agreed.

"So I should wait and let these things fix themselves?" Kyle asked wryly.

"Opportunities always come up," Gary replied. "The thing is you just need to be aware of when they occur."

"Right," Kyle said noncommittally. "Well, good luck out there."

"Thanks for that Kyle but I think the help we got from Brett O'Donnell will go a long way," Gary said.

"Who?" Kyle stared at the Mormon, stumped.

"Mitt Romney's old speech coach?" Ike asked yet it sounded more like a statement than anything.

"He came highly recommended from Mitt himself," Gary said cheerfully. "Stan's really going to pwn out there."

"Damn straight," Kyra agreed. "It's going to be like sending the Master Chief himself against a bunch of n00bs. It's gonna be great."

Parting ways, Kyle noticed that Ike was giving him a troubled look.

"You know what Kyle?" his adopted Canadian brother said. "Now's a good time to be antsy."

Before panic could truly set in on the brothers, Gary called back to them, asking, "Hey guys! Did you know that this is being broadcasted? Who do you think would broadcast a debate between prom nominees?"

* * *

><p><em>FOX NEWS presents the 2012 South Park Prom Election Debate! It's the FOX network, providing you 'fair' and 'balanced' news coverage of what we think is important to you and because we have nothing else better to do.<em>

Stan's eyes adjusted to the bright lights that beamed down onto the stage he shared with his fellow nominees and he gripped the podium he stood behind so as to not show that he was nervous or anything.

He couldn't show weakness! Especially not since Cartman was only two spots away from him. Only Kenny stood between him and the fat boy who was drinking up all the attention that he was sure was being directed towards him. To his right, Clyde was shifting his weight from leg to leg, having a much harder time remaining calm now that the spotlight was on him kinda.

At least he wasn't next to Damien who was to his far left, only Craig between him and Cartman. There was just something dark about the Antichrist that was really showing up tonight. Maybe it was because of all those cameras.

Or maybe it was all the red, white, and blue that colored everything, like the designer was overly patriotic. If they wanted so much of these colors, why couldn't they have just bought like a hundred American flags? Would have given the same feel anyway.

Sitting at a stand that was perhaps only ten to fifteen feet away from the stage sat a small man that went by the name Chris Wallace. The man gave the impression that he was portly yet at the same time he appeared averaged sized, like his body couldn't decide what it was.

"Welcome folks to the 2012 prom elections, I'm Chris Wallace," Chris Wallace spoke into the camera that was present in front of him. "We bring you live from the set of the Prom King Debates which is brought to you by Black Market. For all your political campaign needs, Black Market is the place for big savings.

"Now, allow me to introduce the candidates. Center right we have nominee Eric Cartman, next to him and to the right nominee Craig Tucker and at the far right nominee Damien the Antichrist. At center left, we have nominee Kenny McCormick, next to him and to the left nominee Stan Marsh and at the far left nominee Clyde Donovan.

"These six men are campaigning for your votes but tonight we're going to get to know them, what their stances and values are, and ultimately, help you figure who you want to vote for. Now, without further ado, let's start this debate. Are the candidates ready?"

Stan answered in the affirmative along with the other five. Alright, it was game time; time to hit a home run here. This was not the time to show weakness.

"First question goes to nominee Kenny McCormick. Nominee McCormick, what issues are important to you and what would you do different from the current prom king?"

Sharing the same feeling as Cartman, peeved that he wasn't asked the first question of the night, Stan remained silent, hoping that Kenny would trip up and make a mistake.

"I'm a very down to earth kind of guy," Kenny said, flashing some of that McCormick charm. "I'm for some of the things everybody is for. Low taxes, social safety net, legalization of marijuana, free porn. Important things. What would I do differently than the current prom king? I would get off of my butt and do things instead of leading from behind."

"Candidates? Do you disagree with nominee McCormick?"

"I happened to notice that my colleague here didn't mention anything about cutting spending over here," Cartman picked up first, wanting to be the second to speak this night and not have anyone steal his thunder. "But it shouldn't be surprising since Kenny here is poor and leaching off the welfare system like a parasite but that's what poor people do."

Was that a vein throbbing on Kenny's temple? Cartman may have struck first blood but even Stan could tell the fat bigot was losing some support. Still, it wasn't best to underestimate him; Cartman could still turn it around.

Like his speech coach told him, Stan took his opportunity to speak. "I disagree with Cartman's argument," he said almost robotically. "We do need to cut spending but Kenny isn't leaching from the welfare system." There, how's that for sticking up for a friend?

"Like you're one to talk, Stan," Cartman replied snidely. "You have very poor observational skills. For example, who left their homosexual dog on top of his car when he went on a trip with his parents to California, hmm?"

Stan tried to resist the blush that was creeping up from his neck. Damn it! How'd Cartman remember…no, he shouldn't be surprised that Cartman would remember that. Bastard was playing dirty.

"Whatever happened to Stan's dog is not important here," Kenny butted in. "He got ripped for it as he deserved but the past is past. Right now we have high levels of unemployment in our school and I promise if I'm elected Prom King, I'll cut that figure in half."

"Who cares about unemployment?" Cartman rolled his eyes at Kenny. "The unemployment rate doesn't matter to me. They should find some jobs; they don't need government welfare!"

From the other side of Cartman, Craig muttered, "This is fucking ridiculous," which was not picked up by the microphone, sparing him from a gaffe.

"How can you not care about unemployment?" Kenny demanded.

"Because I'm too busy being an advocate for civilization, a definer of civilization, a teacher of rules of civilization, arouser of those who form civilization, an organizer of pro-civilization activists, and a leader of civilizing forces," Cartman replied heatedly.

"I bet you ten thousand dollars you don't even know what civilization means," Stan retorted.

"If I had ten thousand bucks, I'd take you up on that but I'm not since I'm a person of regular means," Cartman shot back. "Just because your family has some money doesn't mean you can use it to lord over the rest of us Stan!"

For some reason, Stan felt as if he had said the wrong thing.

* * *

><p>From the safety of Brittany Love's living room, LESBIAN watched the unfolding debate from the comfort of the Love's couch and chairs and for some the carpeted floor.<p>

"Wow, this is really heating up," Bonnie said right before she crammed a handful of popcorn in her mouth.

"Kenny's really doing well tonight, isn't he?" Brittany commented to the other girls. "Oh, he so handsome."

"Why isn't Craig saying anything?" Rory asked worriedly. "He's barely said anything! Just stand there and let the others talk!"

"Ssh! Clyde's about to say something!" a LESBIAN hushed them.

"_I don't know about these guys but I really love this country,"_ Clyde managed to insert into the heated debate between Stan, Kenny, and Cartman. _"From this school, I've learned that the Founding Fathers were great men who we can all look up to. They made the Cons…the Cons-tee-toot-on and they tried to end slavery. They liked freedom so much that they started the Revolutionary War in Colorado and invaded Texas to free it from the Mexicans."_

"Wow, I didn't know that!" Bonnie said, wide-eyed.

Huh, why were the girls looking at her like that?

"_See? The school's performance is so bad that we have somebody like Clyde here about to graduate!"_ Cartman pounced on the opportunity. _"We should be top tier but all the poor people and Mexicans are dragging us down! And who is responsible for this? Jews! If we can't produce some smart people, we'll wind up like some third world country like Uzbekistan!"_

"_I think we should be more focused on this school than Ubeki-beki-beki-beki-stan-stan or whatever it's called," _Kenny replied. _"They can run their schools their way and we should run our school our way! But we should do something about the school lunches. Their quality has gone down with each grade I've entered."_

"There! He's right on the important issues!" Brittany crowed. "I am going to marry that man one day."

"Not before I do," Bonnie replied.

"What was that?" Brittany asked irritably.

"Come on Craig! Show them what you're made of!" Rory practically screamed at the television. "Why won't you say anything? Is it me? Do I have a pimple? Am I contracting herpes? Craig! I'm sorry!" Cue waterworks.

* * *

><p>"A question for all the candidates. How would you cut on spending? What would you cut?"<p>

Cartman was on a roll. He was totally pwning these n00bs. No, not pwning, Pwning. Big p. That's how bad he was owning them.

Kenny was a poor redneck hick who probably made drugs in his backyard or something, not that that uncertainty stopped him from making the accusation. Stan was in robot mode, completely without affect and making gaffes out the wazoo though Cartman would agree with Stan, corporations were people too. Clyde was stupid, end of story. For the most part, Craig and Damien were silent though Craig had managed to say one thing.

It was unimportant so Cartman didn't really recall it.

But right now here was a question that he could answer that would clinch this debate for him.

"I'll take this one, boys," he spoke up first. "I think this school is spending too much money in too many places. What I propose to do is to eliminate three, count them, three school programs that will save the school a lot of money. I plan to get rid of the honor's society because that's only for those snooty people who think they're all that and all. There's one. The second is Saturday school because we spend five days of our week at school. We don't need a sixth day! Saturday should be ours and ours to do with as we wish! And the third is…what's the third one…the um…the third thing I would do away with…I would do away with the honor's society, Saturday school, and uh, let's see…I can't think of the third one. Oops."

Why were people looking at him like he was an idiot—and why the hell were they laughing? He was being serious here! Super serial! Damn it, why couldn't he remember the third thing he was going to get rid of?

"It would be nice if that third thing was detention," Stan said wryly.

That motherfucker! Taking advantage of his memory lapse!

"Can I just take a minute and say that you guys are taking this over the top?" Craig spoke up. "Prom King does not have the power you guys think it does."

"Really, Craig?" Cartman mocked, recovering as quickly as he could from his obvious gaffe. "Shows how much you know. Clyde knows more than you do and he's sucked this entire night!"

"Hey, what's that supposed to mean?" Clyde glared over at Cartman.

"You're making a big deal over nothing," Craig replied.

"Nominee Tucker, are you saying that freedom is a waste of time?" Chris Wallace asked.

"No but this isn't a presidential election or whatever," Craig shrugged.

"I find that Craig's lack of enthusiasm disqualifies him from being eligible for this prestigious position," Cartman snarked.

"What he said," Kenny said, agreeing with him.

"I hate to interrupt but sometime tonight, I think we ought to hear from the last nominee, Damien the Antichrist," Chris Wallace interrupted again, looking expectantly at the sixth and most silent candidate. "Nominee the Antichrist, what is your position on some of these issues? Why should voters vote for you?"

Damien's lips curved up into a wicked smile that commanded all attention on him. "It's simple, Mr. Moderator. Vote for me and I won't send you to burn for all eternity into a pit of eternal hellfire."

The whole room, the candidates, audience, and Chris Wallace, was nothing but silence.

Then someone spoke up, "He's got my vote." When other began agreeing, Stan took the reins of the debate.

"Wait a minute, you're going to let him threaten you into voting for him?" Stan demanded.

"Some voters do care about what happens to their immortal soul, Nominee Marsh. What is your stance on immortal souls, Nominee Marsh?"

"That…uh…that our immortal souls belong to ourselves?" Stan said hesitantly.

"I agree with Marsh, we shouldn't let others threaten our immortal souls for votes because then…then the terrorists win!" Kenny declared though he shot a nervous look towards Damien who only gave him an indulgent smile, as if he knew more than he did.

None of that matter because, Goddamn it, they were stealing his thunder!

* * *

><p>As everything began winding down, Damien almost snorted in contempt. Foolish mortals, as if they really did have control over their immortal souls…<p>

Oh well, they would all find out the hard way, just like everyone else.

"One last question and this one goes to nominee Cartman. Is it true that your bodyguard is a homosexual?"

Damien found that his eyes were being directed towards the suited and slight-formed "bodyguard" that had been off stage but always standing in front of Cartman's podium. Throughout the "debate," this self-important mortal had been standing there with his arms crossed and trying to look like he was watching out for assassins. Funny, he had been entertained so much this night that he hadn't really noticed that his obese rival was trying to make himself more important by hiring on a bodyguard.

But you know what, this "bodyguard" did look a bit on the queer side, if you know what he meant.

Said "bodyguard's" face was turning red, and from anger Damien noted since he could smell the wrath wafting off that slight form.

Just as Cartman opened his mouth to either challenge or confirm the belief of his "bodyguard's" alleged homosexuality, the "bodyguard" roared, "FUCK OFF ASSHOLE!"

Looks like Damien was about to received more entertainment.

"Now who the hell ever came up with that idea?" Cartman demanded, glaring at their moderator. "My bodyguard is butch! Sure he looks like he's flaming more than a bonfire but he's so masculine that he makes Tim Tebow look like a pansy! He's got, like, heat vision and can bend steel with his bare hands so anybody who's thinking about going after me has to go through him with, like, an eighteen-wheeler or some shit like that."

"He doesn't have super strength and heat vision; he's just some guy you're conning," Stan rebutted. "That's all you do, con people."

"That is an untrue and vicious lie," Cartman accused. "The only people who con around here are poor people and what do we know, we have a poor person up here!"

"Speaking of untrue and vicious," Kenny said wryly, giving a pointed look at Cartman.

"Is that the best you can do Kenny? Are you a name-caller now?" Cartman mocked back.

Truly, this was all an exercise in futility, Damien mused. He himself had already given these mortals the best argument to vote for him. Really now, who wanted to be thrown into a pit of eternal hellfire? When he was much younger, he had fallen into one by accident and it had hurt like a bitch.

So he had a healthy fear of pits of eternal hellfire. Any mortal should have a healthy fear of them too. And if he may have insinuated that he would push a few mortals into one, well, fear wasn't an anomaly in politics.

Hmm? What was that? He smelled wrath in the air but it wasn't coming from Cartman's "bodyguard," who by the way was busy strangling Chris Wallace with the man's own necktie while barking out that he was not gay. No, it was coming from backstage, it was coming from…

Ooh, he hadn't known Kyle could be that exquisite. He might have to start pissing the fiery redhead off more often if he could get another whiff of that brand of wrath.

* * *

><p>Kyle felt like banging his head against some kind of hard surface. No really, he did. Ike was having to force him to stand in one place so he couldn't get close to a hard surface in which to bang his head against.<p>

While Kenny had done good out there, not doing much to make many gaffes like Stan, Clyde, and Cartman were, it was not the blond's performance that made Kyle want to bash his brains out.

It could all be summed up into one word: Damien.

When was it not Damien? He should have known that Damien was going to go the fear mongering route; it was more surprising that Cartman hadn't gone that way yet and that someone had beat him to the punch.

Not that that would stop Cartman from doing it himself, eventually.

"So how'd I do guys?" Kenny asked as he finally left the stage, the glare of the spotlight giving him the illusion of having a halo. "Kicked ass out there or what?"

"With the exception of showing how little you know about foreign policy, you did great," Ike applauded him.

"That's…great," Kenny said, unable to come up with any other word to say. "Kyle? What'd you think?"

"Don't bother, he's pissed off at Damien," Ike rolled his eyes. "He's didn't like the one thing that the guy did say the whole night."

"What about Cartman? Anything the fatass say that pissed him off?" Kenny wondered.

"Practically everything," Ike admitted. "No, I think what pissed Kyle off more was that Damien beat Cartman to 'the vote for me out of fear' schtick."

"Well, Damien could cast someone into a pit of eternal hellfire so perhaps that threat is valid," Kenny pointed out.

"And we live in a town full of God-fearing rednecks," Kyle decided to butt in, tired that the two of them were talking about him like he wasn't there. He was there and hadn't moved from his spot since Kenny had come up to them. "By the way, you did good out there."

"What can I say, they don't call me Kenny Casanova McCormick for nothing," Kenny said, combing his fingers through his hair and giving a sultry wink.

"Hold on, you were flirting out there?" Kyle frowned.

"Don't all people running for office do that?" Kenny replied.

"Point," Kyle acknowledged.

"So there's nothing wrong with it," Kenny said cheerfully.

Kyle could only grumble at the logic but said no more as Ike took over the conversation, already plotting how they would do damage control if any of his comments that night went viral. Looking away from his brother and friend, Kyle spotted a familiar raven-haired youth and scowled.

Damien sent him a wink back and fell back into the shadows, not leaving so that he could keep an eye on him.

As much as Kyle wanted to march over there and give that demonic asshole a piece of his mind, he refrained from doing it. He had Kenny's campaign to run here and if he did march up to Damien, there was a good chance that someone would end up limping come dawn.

Kyle had a good feeling that he would be the one limping.

So no, he would not march over there and give Damien a piece of his mind. He had better things to do. And he had a date soon. He wasn't going to screw this up, not now at least. He had to show Damien (and Cartman but that was a given) that he was not going to let him get to him.

He'll let Damien do what he wanted for this election cycle, let Damien screw himself out of winning. Damien losing was not his problem.

What was his problem was Kenny losing and he couldn't let that happen. Also, he needed to figure out a way to get off the Prom Queen ballot. He would be damned and incredibly humiliated if he won that damn crown.

* * *

><p>The intensity of the debate had been overwhelming for Rory. So much so that she decided to go home early and try to relax.<p>

There was just so much drama today that it was tearing her apart! Well, not really, but you get the point.

She didn't really understand why Craig, that handsome devil, didn't say much other than to get himself questioned about his patriotism. She didn't know what she would do if she happened to become Prom Queen but Craig didn't become Prom King. My God, she would have to marry whoever didn't win! And what if it was Cartman or that Damien kid who won?

Her life would be ruined!

Take deep breaths Rory. Deep breaths. This was not the time to panic. She needed to keep a cool head…but it was so hard! How did Craig do it? He was also so cool-headed and handsome and steadfast and handsome and…did she mention handsome?

Yeah, and those extremely rare times when she caught him smiling, oh he was so hot!

Oh great, now she was blushing! Would that ruin her complexion? Dear God, say it wouldn't!

Think about something else Rory, something else that wasn't…Craig…but damn he was so hot! No, don't go there! Think about…how you're going to win the crown and Craig will win too and the two of you will be married and live happily ever after! Yeah, yeah, that's what you should do. Now how were you going to make this a reality? Letting LESBIAN get the word out about you could only do so much.

At least with Bebe gone, Rory stood a better chance at winning. Yep, she was one step closer to winning with one less person running!

Now, she shouldn't be out here, alone while walking home but what were the odds that someone would attack her?

…actually, the odds were pretty high! And what if a teacher or the principal caught her all alone? Then she would be off the ballot and then she and Craig would never get together and she was going to wind up like some old cat lady! Noooooooo!

Looking behind her to judge how far she was from Brittany's house, Rory realized to her dismay that she had already gone fifty feet away from the Love's property. She was too far away, she'd have to go the rest of the way home, which was about two blocks away.

She had already come so far!

Would it be bad for her body if she ran the rest of the way home? That way it would decrease the chance of anyone catching her! Rory, you were a genius! But if you ran too much, then wouldn't your knees wear our quicker? Gasp, would she wear out her knees running back home?

Rory, you had definitely gotten yourself into a quandary, whatever that word meant. How about she walk home but walk quickly? Yeah, that sounded like a good idea. She would walk home! Quickly!

Truly, Rory, you were a—was that a footstep behind her?

Distracted, she turned her head around in time to see a black-clad figure wearing a ski mask just before a crowbar wacked her upside the head. And now the side of her face was against the sidewalk. Was that going to scratch up her face?

A shadow fell over her and she looked up at her masked attacker one last time before everything went black.

* * *

><p>Marcus was still in a bad mood when he returned to his girlfriend's house that night. It was rare when he was in such a mood and generally when he was, he tended to alienate people. Hopefully, if he made it to the basement, he could avoid everyone and recover in privacy before he did anything he might regret.<p>

As soon as he took one step into the house, he spotted Bain in the living room chair, watching the television as a program came to an end. Bain's brown eye left the TV to glance at him before returning to the screen.

"Hard day?" Bain asked wryly.

Bain, don't do this. He was not going to be pleasant company today. "It was…okay," he managed to ground out though.

"You better get used to these 'okay' days because there will be a lot of them," Bain replied.

"What makes you say that?" Marcus asked, managing to keep his irritation aside if only because he was curious.

"No matter what profession you have, there will always be _those_ days in which you wish you could strangle someone," Bain answered.

"You're being…talkative," Marcus said.

"You're the second person today to say that to me," Bain stated.

Marcus raised an eyebrow. "You had a bad day too, huh?"

"Old nemesis," Bain said. "Your excuse?"

"New nemesis," Marcus growled uncharacteristically as he took a seat on the couch. His bad mood didn't seem so bad now that he was with someone who was also in a bad mood. And now that he remembered Josh…

He pulled out the envelope that Josh had asked him to mail. Once again, there was the Cynis' home's address. It made him ask the question: why or how did Josh know someone in this house?

"I got this today," he said holding the envelope out to Bain. "Do you know who this is supposed to go to?"

Bain took the envelope and looked at it. Then much to Marcus' surprise, Bain was opening it.

"Uhh…Bain?" Marcus asked, hoping to get an answer as well as prevent mail tampering. Tampering with the mail was still a crime, right?

"Curious, how'd you intercept a letter from my pen pal?" Bain asked him, looking away from the letter that the envelope had contained and now those heterochromatic eyes were boring straight into the young cop.

"You…you're pen pals with Josh Myers?" Marcus' voice cracked.

"Calls himself the TP Marauder," Bain said. "Josh is his real name, huh."

"But why are you pen pals with him?" Marcus pressed, doing his best not to show his…animosity towards the juvenile convict.

"Freshman year English class," Bain replied, "the project was to write a letter to a randomly selected pen pal who happened to be attending the nearby juvenile hall. You had to try and convince them to 'give up their life or crime and rehabilitate into normal society.'"

"That doesn't sound bad," Marcus said.

"The project didn't last long as the replies from the juveniles essentially were 'Fuck off' or inquiring whether or not someone liked Animaniacs," Bain continued wryly. "But that wasn't the reason why it was discontinued."

"It wasn't?" Marcus asked.

"Someone tried to orchestrate a break out, there was chaos, yadda yadda," Bain said. "If I recall correctly, there was a lot of fear from some of the boys concerning Trent Boyett. I think there was some talk about Texas chili bowls but I hadn't been paying attention then."

"What's a Texas chili bowl?" Marcus asked curiously. He recalled seeing Trent Boyett so he could believe that some people around here would be scared of him.

"All I know is that it involves a phone, chili sauce, and the anus," Bain shrugged.

"Huh. …eww," Marcus wrinkled his nose as the mental image finally formed in his head. Searching for something to distract him, he recalled a curious piece of information. "Say, why did he call himself…why didn't he use his real name?"

"Because I didn't use my real name," Bain said dryly. "Due to fear of some of the more violent ones, it was allowed by the teacher to use an alias."

"Makes sense," Marcus said. "What did you call yourself?"

"That's prying," Bain replied. "Why are you so curious?"

"Um, just…wanted to know more about my girlfriend's brother?" Marcus hazarded.

Bain gave him a blank stare before going back to the letter. Marcus knew he could assume rightfully that out of all the people who participated in that English project, Bain had continued his pen pal relationship. But out of all the juvies, did it have to be Josh Myers? Was someone trying to pull a prank on him?

He heard Bain chuckle from his chair and for some reason, it put him on edge. Marcus didn't like how it sounded but he couldn't just object to Sierra's brother laughing. The guy barely laughed as it was.

Speaking of Sierra, where was she? If she was in bed, asleep, then he wouldn't have to worry about inflicting his bad mood on her. The last thing he needed was for the girl he loved to be in a bad mood too.

"Do you know where Sierra is?" he asked.

"Hell should I know," Bain groused, not taking his eyes off the letter. "Probably upstairs doing whatever she does."

Good enough for him. Leaving his seat on the couch, he headed for the sanctuary of the basement where, fingers crossed, he would not be intruded upon until the morning. Perhaps he needed thicker skin or something because if someone as creepy as Josh Myers could get under his skin, what would happen if he had to deal with someone else like Josh?

He didn't want to believe Bain when he said there were going to be more days like this but in his heart, he had a feeling that he was right.

He could only pray Bain was wrong as he shut the basement door behind him.


	16. Politics in Action

Author's Note: Poll's now closed; accidentally kept it open a week long than I said it would but it's not like it made a difference. About ten people voted but the results of the vote will not be revealed until the night of prom, which is several chapters away. Of course, with the way prom queen candidates are being knocked off, will there be any by the night of prom? Or is there a pattern to how they're being knocked off? Will the candidate with the most votes be the last one standing? Keep reading to find out. Enjoy.

Disclaimer: I do not own South Park.

Warning: language

Politics in Action

Charlie was only mildly surprised when she found Bain waiting out front for her that morning. It seemed like he was willing to give her a ride to school today in that car of his that seemed to somehow radiate evil.

That could have come from the black paint job but Charlie was more than willing to accept the theory that Bain's own darkness was contagious.

"So what is it you want this time?" she asked as she slid into the front passenger seat, being careful not to get her still damp hair to touch the seat. Bain would ream her, and not in a good way, if she ruined the fabric (rolls eyes here). "You want me to look the other way on something? Or do you want me to go easy on you later today when I find out you've done something that will make you more of a psychotic bastard than you already are?"

"First of all, it's only an extremely small percentage of psychotics that are violent and if a psychotic does become violent, the violence is usually directed towards themselves," Bain replied. "Second, I thought you'd be thinking I was abandoning you for new prey by now. I can't allow you to start thinking that maybe I've grown bored, can I?"

"Forgive me then, apparently saying that you are a psychotic is an insult to psychotics," Charlotte retorted. "But nothing I can do will ever make you get bored with me. I will admit I'm wondering what you're doing. I heard you're head of the prom committee now. Care to explain that to me? I would've thought you'd despise prom like you do with every other thing."

"Dear Charlotte, that is for me to know and you to find out," Bain chided as he put his car into gear and began moving forward.

"I recall you telling me the other day that I shouldn't bother hiding things from you because you'll find out about it anyway," Charlie said. "Shouldn't that work the other way too?"

"There's a difference between you and me," Bain explained, not taking his eyes off the road. "I'm curious and want to know all your little secrets whereas you're the opposite. You're not curious at all. So I see no reason to explain anything, especially when it's about something that you're not interested in in the first place."

"How do you know I'm not interested?" Charlie challenged, miffed at the explanation.

"Charlotte, with the exception of all the times when I've tried to terminate you or one of the gnats you call friend, when have you ever been interested in the things I do?" Bain questioned, turning his head just enough so that she could see his raised eyebrow.

He had a point but she wasn't about to let him know that. One of the last things she wanted to do was inflate his ego. The guy was arrogant enough without the inflation.

"Come on," she tried to wheedle, the key word being tried. "I don't see you much anymore."

"Once upon a time, that would have made you leap for joy," Bain commented dryly, back to watching the road as he made a right hand turn. "Change of heart?"

"You know damn well," she muttered, now subtly glaring at him. He was enjoying this, wasn't he? The asshole.

"What's on your mind? You seem stressed," Bain said. "Home troubles? Unwanted house guest?"

"If you're referring to Damien, yes," Charlie grumbled. Pausing, she said, "And don't change the subject. Why won't you just confess what you're up to this time?"

"If you really want to know, I just want to leave a lasting impression on my so-called peers," Bain answered.

"What? Freezing them into human ice blocks wasn't enough to leave an impression?" she retorted sardonically.

"That was vengeance, don't confuse the two," Bain replied.

"You can't seriously think I'll believe you," Charlie pointed out, not bothering to phrase her words with a question. "I know you too well. You wouldn't do something so out of character unless you were up to something big."

"I'll give you that, it is big," Bain answered unexpectedly. She hadn't expected him to admit that much but even then, it was still breadcrumbs.

Like fucking pulling teeth man.

"Do I have to get Christophe to spy on you or something?" she threatened. "You know he'd do anything to mess with your business."

"Why don't you look into the other girl that's been following me, hmm?" Bain threw out, still not looking at her.

"Are you talking about that pink-haired girl, what's her face?" Charlie demanded. "She's still stalking you?"

"I've been stalked before, whether you've known that or not," Bain stated. "Sunny is nowhere near close to satisfying the definition of a stalker."

Charlie paused for a second. "You've been stalked before? Who the hell in their right mind would want to stalk you?"

"She wasn't in her right mind in the first place," Bain said.

"When the hell did this happen? Who was she?" Charlie pressed, for some reason not liking the idea that someone else had had "eyes" on Bain.

"Who she was isn't important other than the fact that she's victim number one," Bain replied, turning his face away from the road for a second to look her dead in the eyes. Bad choice of words there, sorta, but before she knew it, he was looking straight ahead again. "As for when, it happened long before you moved back to this crappy town. Happy now?"

Eyes narrowed but not willing to bite Bain's bait, she decided to go back to his first comment. "Who else is following you then?"

"I hadn't noticed her at first," Bain admitted grudgingly, "but then I saw her following Sunny. The bitch was trying to be subtle about it and hadn't noticed that I had seen her."

"So then you turned the tables and stalked her," Charlie guessed.

"Nope," Bain replied. "Too much to do. But if you want to do something…"

A thought occurred to Charlie then, one that involved a certain meeting. "It wouldn't happen to be DJ, would it?" she inquired.

"Who?" Bain grunted.

A bit ironic that he recalled the most forgettable person in the school…

"She told me about you meeting up with Sunny the other day," Charlie took her turn to admit. "By the way, what was that about? Are you giving that girl misplaced hope or something?"

"None of your business," Bain snorted at her.

Ah, now they were back to Bain stonewalling. Great.

"Guess I'll have Christophe bug your phones then," Charlie threw out as casually as she could. Time to risk his temper but hopefully the fallout would be beneficial.

Instead of rage, Bain smirked. "Go ahead. He'll be taking them out before the day is out."

"What makes you say that?" Charlie challenged.

"Sierra," Bain answered. "She tends to use the house phone."

"I was talking about your cell," Charlie deadpanned.

"And you just showed me your hand, dear Charlotte," Bain mocked. "I'll be sure not to use it then."

"You just like busting my balls, don't you?" Charlie grumbled.

"Impossible," Bain dismissed. "You don't anatomically have balls to bust."

"Asshole."

* * *

><p>"I'm sure all of you have heard by now," Brittany said solemnly. "Last night, Rory was attacked. She is now out of the election. Not because she was attacked but because she tried to go somewhere without an escort. The school is taking this seriously so Bonnie and I must be with people at all times."<p>

"That's what you got out of this?" a LESBIAN demanded after a moment of silence.

"Someone's out there trying to terrorize us into quitting," Brittany retorted. "We owe it to Rory to stay in this thing until the very end! She wouldn't want us to just give up!"

"You're talking about her as if she died," Bonnie pointed out and did Brittany detect some smugness there?

"Yeah, she's not dead!" another LESBIAN agreed.

"She isn't," Brittany admitted, "but once she hears she's out, what do you think she'll do? The stress is going to give her an acne breakout and that might just kill her!"

Everyone knew how sensitive Rory was to pimples. A few LESBIANs crossed themselves and offered a prayer that their fellow member would come out of this okay.

"It has to be MUFFDIVER that's behind this!" Brittany declared then. She could tell she was losing ground to Bonnie and Brittany would be damned if it was Bonnie who ended up marrying Kenny! "They don't want competition and there's no doubt in my mind that they're the ones responsible!"

There was agreement with the other girls and Brittany found that perhaps she had come across something that would unite the group. For so long after they had kicked Gwendolyn out, LESBIAN had been on the decline. Brittany hadn't wanted to admit it but with MUFFDIVER being more aggressive than them when it came to pursuing their men, it was the newer group that was triumphing over the older one.

If a LESBIAN, no, Brittany wanted to win and become Prom Queen, she was going to need a base of voters that would do everything in its power to get her elected. If it was split between her and Bonnie, then they would be sure to lose.

Bonnie was going to have to bow out, Brittany mused. It was the only way that Brittany stood a chance at winning. Yet she couldn't be open about it and order Bonnie to get off the ballot. That would turn some of her unstable base away from her. She couldn't ask Bonnie to stop running because since when had Bonnie ever done anything that Brittany had asked her?

She had asked Bonnie to give up on Kenny plenty of times but had Bonnie listened? Nooo…

"Hey DJ!" she called out towards the back of the abandoned classroom at the back of the school next to the bandroom…which had practice going on and the sounds of trumpets were starting to give a few of the girls headaches. "What news do you have from MUFFDIVER?"

Silence was her answer and that made Brittany curious. When other girls began turning their heads towards the back where DJ usually sat, a realization was discovered. DJ was not there.

Brittany blinked her eyes as if trying to clear them so that DJ would just magically appear where she usually sat. Nothing. Uhhh…what was going on? Why wasn't DJ here sitting in with them like she always did?

"Where is she?" Bonnie wondered.

For some reason, Brittany felt naked. DJ wasn't here but she always was here! Why wasn't she? She didn't understand…

Suddenly, the world got so much more colder…

* * *

><p>DJ's eyes glittered from the light cast on her from the computer screen.<p>

"I got you now asshole," she said to herself, the corners of her mouth turned upwards into a wicked smile.

* * *

><p>Stan took in a deep breath and entered into South Park High. What greeted him were posters and banners that covered the walls, all trying to convince people to vote for a certain person for prom.<p>

He couldn't hide the smirk that grew on his face as he spotted more than a few declaring him running for prom king. Stan the man who led the Cows to victory; vote for him! Stan, the hometown hero needs your vote. Stan is an animal hater who left his dog on the roof of his—what the fuck?

Stan came to a stop and glared at the piece of paper with painted on words. Then his eyes were drawn to some small wording at the corner of the poster and he narrowed his eyes to see it better.

_I'm Eric Cartman and I approved this message_

"I should have known; negative ads," Stan seethed, balling his hands into fists.

"Hey Stan, what's up?" Gary greeted. Looking at the poster, Gary tsked. "Has Cartman no shame?"

"Absolutely none," Stan growled. "We can't let him get away with this."

"You don't want to do this Stan," Gary warned. "Once you start with the negative ads, you never stop. Just ask Mitt."

"I can't just let Cartman put something like this up!" Stan exclaimed.

"It wasn't Cartman who put it up," Gary said.

"How do you know?" Stan demanded.

"It says right here: _this ad is paid for by the Students for School Domination_," Gary pointed out. "It's a super PAC that put this up."

"How'd Cartman get a super PAC and why'd they choose a dumbass name for it?" Stan wondered.

"Funny, I was about to ask how you got a super PAC too," Gary said. "Ever hear of the Students for Old Town Values? Whoever they are support you."

"Look at this!" Stan exclaimed, spotting another negative ad. This one was lambasting Damien of all people and apparently Kenny approved of it. However, it was paid for by the Students for Free Shit super PAC. "Hold up, how'd _Kenny_ get a super PAC?"

"Apparently enough people believe in him enough to try and get him elected," Gary shrugged. "Either that or Kyle took the initiative."

"Or Ike," Stan said darkly. When Gary gave him an inquiring look, Stan elaborated. "Ike's more politically minded that Kyle. This has Ike, not Kyle, written all over it."

"What does?" Looking behind him, Stan smiled softly at Kyra as the girl came up to his side, apparently having just arrived.

Gesturing with an arm, Stan answered, "This. Someone's putting up negative ads."

"Why would they do that?" Kyra frowned.

"Because—" Gary attempted to explain but a much louder voice from further down the hallway cut him off.

"AY! What the hell is this shit?" Cartman roared.

Looks like he too discovered a negative ad.

As if sensing his presence, Cartman snapped his head towards Stan's general direction and the jock was suddenly reminded of a pissed off bull just before it started charging. His nostrils flaring like said bull, Cartman stomped all the way towards Stan and his crew and Stan put himself protectively in front of Kyra so that she wouldn't have to bear the brunt of Cartman's anger.

"What's the big idea Stan?" Cartman demanded heatedly. "Unsure that you can't win without attacking me personally? That's _so_ mature of you."

"Look, I didn't put any of this shit up," Stan stated.

"Sure, that's a likely story," Cartman scoffed.

"It's not like you're the only one being attacked," Stan shot back. "Right there," he pointed at a poster that was ribbing him on his dog gaffe, "that one's against me!"

"Serves you right," Cartman said, smirking back. "It looks like some people around here have seen the light and know how much of a lying snake you are."

"The same goes for you but wait, people already know how much of a lying psychopath you are!" Stan retorted heatedly. His anger was growing and he felt an overwhelming need to deck Cartman, that asshole, in that chubby face of his.

"Another vicious lie? How low can you go Stanley?" Cartman mocked.

"Not as low as you," Stan said. "I guess people around here like Jews more than they like you."

"Fuck you Stan!" Cartman blasted. "They're still hypnotized by some kind of Jew hypnosis or something! Before this is all over, I will make people see the light and then we can run Kahl and his Jew family out of town! It's blind assholes like you who are putting all of us in danger and soon the Jewish plague is going to overwhelm us and turn us all into kosher-loving heathens! Not on my watch Stan! Not on my watch!"

"Don't talk that way about a religious minority," Gary butted in, giving Cartman a look that seemed alien on his normally cheerful face. "Are you so insecure about yourself that you have to persecute people that can't fight back?"

"Who the hell are you pussy?" Cartman sneered. "Are you another Jew pawn or somethi—ack!"

"Shut the fuck up already," Brianna growled from her place next to Cartman, gripping Cartman's ear harshly.

"Y-yes ma'am!" Cartman exclaimed submissively, immediately cowed.

"Weren't you supposed to be leading me somewhere?" Brianna asked as she released Cartman. "To class, I hope."

"Of course! Wherever!" Cartman said quickly.

Giving Stan and company a nod, Brianna turned on her heels, leading Cartman away. Cartman paused for a second and threw a dirty look at the trio but then quickly hurried after his so-called bitch.

"There's something so wrong yet so funny with that," Stan said after a minute.

That comment was followed by another silence that lasted until Gary spoke up. "You think we should go to the principal and ask her if we can take these down? I think it's insulting to everyone's intelligence that voters can be cowed by fear into voting for someone."

"Why not just take the ones against me down?" Stan asked curiously.

"It'll say more about you if we take them all down. Take only those against you down and that might alienate some people," Gary said.

"Sorry but I'm afraid the posters are going to have to stay," a voice said from behind them.

Slightly startled, Stan snapped his head towards the source of the voice…and found himself having to look down somewhat to gaze at the dispassionate Bain. Behind Bain stood his "wife," Charlie, who was watching the shorter male in disinterest. At least, that's what it looked like to Stan.

"What do you mean they have to stay?" Stan frowned.

"Despite the ignobility of these posters and banners, such things are an everyday part of politics, Mr. Marsh and campaign staff," Bain stated. "If you take them down then you will have to give up all the latitude that the school has been giving you for this whole farce."

"What do you mean?" Gary asked.

"I convinced the principal and staff to go along with this mess by convincing them to see this as an exercise in real world politics," Bain explained. "Do you really think they would have tolerated that ridiculous debate in the first place? So long as they believe there is some educational value in this, you'll be able to campaign however you like."

"I'm confused," Gary admitted. "Your actions say you support all this but when you speak, it sounds like you're scorning it. Which is it?"

"Why does my opinion matter?" Bain questioned. "I figured that Cartman would have pushed things this far, even if he had to involve some third party like the ACLU to do it. Why not cut him off and let him embarrass himself without dragging others into this?"

"You're being evasive," Gary pointed out.

"When isn't he?" Charlie grunted.

"The posters stay, end of story," Bain ordered. "A pleasure to see you again Gary and Gary's friend." Nodding surprisingly at Kyra with those last words, Bain took his leave, Charlie following after him.

"I don't trust him," Stan stated as soon as the shorter male was out of hearing.

"Why's that?" Kyra asked when it seemed that Gary wouldn't ask.

"Call it a hunch," Stan groused. "Nothing he's involved in ends happy."

* * *

><p>"Bitch! Why are you embarrassing me in front of my competition!" Cartman demanded. When Brianna gave him a look, he added, "Ma'am."<p>

"I'm not in the mood to deal with your usual crap Eric," she said after a moment. "And after listening to what you said last night, I'm less inclined to tolerate you bad mouthing a minority. I don't see anything wrong with Jews."

"Don't tell me you've fallen for their lies!" Cartman exclaimed, aghast. "Oh Lord, why my woman? Haven't you even seen _The Passion_?"

"It wasn't that good," Brianna shrugged.

"Not that good?" Cartman was even more horrified if that was possible. "The great Mel Gibson shared with us the story of Christ and how terrible it was for him to be crucified! And the Jews could have saved him! Don't tell me you aren't awed by what the Messiah gave for us!"

"It was a movie; what happened in it was overdramatized," Brianna rolled her eyes. "Didn't you read the Bible?"

"No but why do I need to when I have something like _The Passion_?" Cartman asked.

"You know you're just alienating a lot of people with that kind of talk," Brianna pointed out, being remarkably patient. Usually she'd try to dominate him into submission by now but now she allowing him his say, for once. "A lot of people won't vote for your dumb election because of it."

"Somebody has to tell the truth!" Cartman declared. "Since no one else will, then I'll place myself on that sacrificial altar and—"

"You're not a martyr, dumbass," Brianna interrupted, her bout with patience ending abruptly.

"Yet," Cartman corrected with a smirk.

"You and I know that you won't become one because it means making a sacrifice that you are too selfish to make and we both know it," Brianna stated.

"They said the same thing about…uh…about…" Cartman trailed off, trying to come up with someone.

"Is it the third thing you forgot to mention last night?" Brianna asked sarcastically.

"Oh fuck you," Cartman snarked.

"I already do that to you," Brianna retorted back effortlessly.

Cartman only turned red in embarrassment but managed to get over it pretty quickly. "Well, you know what? I can leave you any time I want," he declared, his nose in the air.

"You could," Brianna agreed, "but did you know that Kyle's going on a date with some girl? That would mean if you left then Kyle would have one over you."

Cartman froze, once again horrified. Goddamn it, she was right! Kyle _would_ have one over him! But wait a minute, how sure was she that Kyle was going out with a girl? A guy, Damien to be more precisely, he could believe. Really, a girl?

Well, well, look who thought they could hide something from him. As if Cartman was going to let Kyle go on a date without a hitch! Sounded like he was going to have to crash it…especially since he hadn't really gone out on a date with…oh shit.

Kyle was about to beat him to going out on a date! That did not count all the ones Kyle went on with that Antichrist asshole. Well he was going to see about that.

"What's with the look? Are you plotting something?" Brianna asked, looking at him sharply.

"Oh no, nothing like what you're thinking," Cartman said as quickly and smoothly as possible. "By the way, how would you like to go out? You know, like on a date? My…" here he struggled a bit with the next word, "…_treat_."

Brianna eyed him suspiciously. "This wouldn't just happen to coincide with a certain Jew's, would it?"

"Of course not! What would ever make you think that?" Cartman exclaimed, trying to look as innocent as possible.

Brianna obviously didn't buy it but instead of calling him out on it, she rolled her eyes. "Whatever."

"Trust me, you'll have a great time!" Cartman said enthusiastically. "Now let me find out when would be a good time…"

A time that coincidentally happened to be the same as Kyle's…as well as the same place. Surely Brianna would have to think it was a coincidence. Surely.

* * *

><p>Sergeant Harrison Yates stared down the dazed girl as she laid recovering in her hospital bed. Her pretty little head was littered with bruises that discolored her smooth pale skin and they hid her freckles better than any kind of makeup that could be used.<p>

Now, Yates had nothing against gingers but he would admit, no matter what condition they were in, they creeped him out. You could see in their eyes the absence of a soul and no matter how pretty or beat up a ginger was, that one thing could not be hidden.

Focus Yates, damn it! You had a job to do! There were political terrorists out there who would stoop to assaulting a ginger who had no chance at winning a prom election that needed to be stopped. They had claimed their second victim and once again left behind a note with the same message as before.

However, it seemed like this particular victim had gotten a look at her attacker. It must be a ginger thing.

It must also be a ginger thing with the way she was moaning about how she was so ugly now that someone named Craig would never like her now.

"Miss, if you would calm down for just a second," he tried to cut through the ginger girl's drama but she was being so loud that she didn't hear him.

"I'm hideous!" the ginger sobbed. "My face is so black that I might as well gain weight and become a fat black girl! Who can ever love me now? Not Craig! I'm so ugly…"

That was the third time she had said that same exact thing. Now she was going around in circles.

"It's…it's not so bad," he tried to comfort the girl. "Some cream would cover most of it up and some mascara around your eyes would cover up the, eh, the black eyes."

"I'm a raccoon!" the ginger girl wailed.

Okay, that was a new one.

"Miss, uh, let's see, it says your name is…Aurora Neilson? Miss Neilson? Could you please calm down? I need to ask you some questions," Yates tried to get back on topic. "These are important questions Miss Neilson. Could you get a hold of yourself for a minute? Miss Neilson?"

"What's the point of living? Now I'll never marry Craig!" the Neilson girl bawled. "I should just sell myself on the streets; that's the only way I'll get close to any kind of love."

"Miss Neilson, your parents love you," Yates protested. "It's not the end of the world here. I need your help now to catch whoever did this to you so they don't do it to somebody else."

"What's the point?" Neilson gasped out between her sobs. "What's the point in doing anything!"

"Now see here!" Yates snapped, losing his patience. "The world is not going to slow down because you're having a bad day here! By being difficult, you're putting other people into danger here so do I need to arrest you for obstructing justice or are you going to get a hold of yourself and answer my questions?"

The Neilson girl whimpered but finally calmed down, tears streaming down her face and—ugh, she looked uglier than Yates could have ever imagined! Damn there was some nasty swelling there and…maybe he should get on to questioning her before he lost her again and had to either give some cosmetic tips or threaten to arrest her to calm her down. Again.

"Now, answer me truthfully, what happened on the night you were attacked?" Yates asked, getting comfortable in his seat.

"I…I was going home…alone…oh please don't tell anyone I was doing that!" the Neilson girl began to explain before suddenly going off tangent.

"I won't but stick to the story," Yates ordered. Christ this girl was creeping him out!

"I…I was barely a block before I looked behind me. I don't know why I did that," the girl continued, sniffing loudly and struggling to hold her tears in. "When I…d-d-do, I-I s-see someone…behind me."

"Good, good, did you get a good look at them?" Yates asked eagerly. If this girl could identify the perps, then this was going to be an open and shut case! Just a little bit more evidence compiling, some of it real, some of it planted just to hurry things along…

"Yes," the girl gasped out, tears beginning to leak out of her eyes.

"Well? What did they look like?" Yates pressed, leaning closer to the ginger girl.

"I…don't know," the girl sobbed.

Yates stared at the girl disbelievingly. Then after a few seconds of silence, he demanded, "What do you mean you don't know?"

"I don't know!" the girl was practically crying.

"Didn't you see their face?" Yates pressed further.

"They had a mask on!" the girl wailed, losing her composure for the tenth time that hour. "And they hit me and made Craig not want to love me! I am so ugly and hideous and awful and…" and on and on she went, listing all the reasons why this Craig, whoever he was, wouldn't go on a date with her.

Needless to say, Yates didn't care whether or not this Craig guy liked this girl or whether this girl would get a date any time soon. Damn it, he wanted to catch the asshole who was making his job harder than it needed to be!

"I'll…I'll come back later," Yates sighed to the hysterical girl, getting out of his seat and resigning himself to the fact that it was going to take longer to close this case. Before he left the room, though, he turned back to the ginger girl and noticed something. "Is that a…pimple?"

If he thought her wailing couldn't get louder…

* * *

><p>"Why are we coming back here again?" Marcus moaned as he trudged slightly behind Officer Barbrady, an envelope in hand.<p>

"Another girl was attacked! Maybe he left some clues that Josh can figure out," Barbrady answered optimistically.

"But these reports are barely an hour old!" Marcus complained. "Shouldn't we wait until we can get some more solid evidence?

"And ruin the plot? Not on my watch!" Barbrady declared. "You need to toughen up some, Manski—"

"Marcus," Marcus corrected.

"—or this job will eat you alive," Barbrady continued, not noticing the correction.

Walking a few feet ahead of them, the warden of the juvenile facility grumbled to himself, "Who do these cops think I am? Some kind of turnkey to be used whenever they want?"

Soon enough, the two cops were entering the solitary wing and passing by the cells belonging to Romper Stomper, who by the way was not immersed in Disneyland at the moment and watching them with guarded eyes, and Trent Boyett. At last, they came to a stop in front of Josh Myers' cell, the teen in practically the same spot as he was the day before.

Did Josh stay in the same spot all the time or something? Marcus was on guard once more and he had a feeling he was going to be forced to divulge some more personal information before all was said and done. Needed to relax his hand there or he would crumple Bain's penpal letter.

"Back again I see? Let me guess, there was another attack, yes?" Josh greeted them, the same smug yet pleasant expression on his face.

"Yeah! How'd you know?" Barbrady asked, totally giving the purpose of their visit away without a fight.

"Because that is the only reason why you gentlemen would return here so quickly," Josh answered without missing a beat. "I bet you haven't even interviewed some of the potential suspects I suggested to you, hmm?"

"Well, we got a few but then there was this debate and I figured the girls would have wanted to keep an eye on their competition," Barbrady shrugged. "I did keep them at the station a minute longer than needed just to prove I could, though."

"An accomplishment for a man of your stature," Josh commented.

While the two continued to yak it up, Marcus reflected on the interviews that had done on the day before.

"_Why is it people think I have something to do with this? I didn't!" declared suspect 1, also known as Gwendolyn Ashley Long._

"_We have to cover our bases, ma'am," Marcus tried to soothe the pissed off girl. If he didn't know any better, he would have thought he was going through a Def Con 1, what with the way the girl was glaring at him._

"_It should be obvious that it wasn't me," Gwendolyn dismissed._

"_But how do we know that, huh?" Barbrady cut in. "Where were you the night of the second at nine o'clock, huh?"_

"_But it's only the first," Gwendolyn said, caught off guard by the aggressive questioning as well as confused about the question itself. A look at the calendar showed that it was indeed the first…_

...

"_Do you know why we've brought you in here today?" Marcus began the questioning of suspect 2, a.k.a. Violet Robbins._

"_Not really. Is it something important?" Violet Robins asked curiously._

"_We just want to ask you some questions about—" Marcus began to explain._

"_We're here about the attack on the Stevens girl and want to know everything you know!" Barbrady interrupted. "…you do know something about the Stevens girl attack, right?" he added after a second, as if he was unsure about the certainty of his questioning._

_Marcus seriously wanted to pinch the bridge of his nose right about now._

"_I'll answer any questions you want me to officers," Violet answered as helpfully as she could._

"_Well, that's good," Barbrady said, giving the girl a smile._

_In return, Violet smiled shyly back at them and the most peculiar thing happened. The light in the interrogation room seemed to reflect off her teeth, somehow increasing in intensity. Marcus had to look away because it was suddenly like he was looking straight into the sun itself. Meanwhile, Barbrady took the reflected light beams head on, the light bouncing onto his shades._

"_Is it just me or did it get brighter in here?" Barbrady wondered out loud._

...

"_For the love of Christ, I want nothing to do with this shit!" suspect 3, i.e. Kyle Broflovski, snarled vehemently. "I don't even want to run for prom queen! I'm a Goddamn guy for crying out loud!"_

"_Calm down ma'am," Barbrady tried to soothe the irate…boy. If anything, Barbrady's attempts to calm this Kyle boy down were only pissing him off more._

_By this point, Marcus decided not to be in the interview room itself because he figured that Barbrady would always be the one in charge of it. There really was nothing Marcus could say about that, though, because Barbrady was still his superior._

_But Marcus would admit, he was starting to lose some respect for the man._

_Just a little, though._

"_Look, Officer Barbrady, I need to go to that debate already! I'm campaign staff!" Kyle protested._

"_You'll sit there for as long as I deem necessary, ma'am," Barbrady asserted his authority._

Outside of Gwendolyn, Marcus had a feeling that it wasn't Violet or Kyle who was responsible for the attacks. Gwendolyn, on the other hand, had acted as if she had something to hide. At the minimum, she hadn't been forthcoming with any answers that they were able to drag out of her.

What could it be that she was hiding?

"Officer Marcus? Are you still with us?" Josh sliced through the young man's musings. "Is something the matter? Not thinking about the missus at home, are we?

Marcus frowned at the inmate and crossed his arms over his chest.

"Getting closed off already? You might want to loosen up, Officer Marcus, because I don't give aid for nothing," Josh chided.

"Fine, just get it over with," Marcus spat.

"You're much more eager today, I wonder why," Josh said, his face not giving away anything. "Get some nookie from the missus, I take it?"

He wanted to say, "Leave her out of this!" but he held his tongue. He did not want to let this little asshole know that he was getting to him. He figured that was why Josh had figuratively latched onto him the last time he and Barbrady had come here.

"Going to be a wet blanket I see," Josh commented. "Well then, Officer Marcus, answer me this. What's that letter in your hands? It wouldn't happen to be for me, would it?"

Blinking, Marcus looked down at his hand, an idea coming to him. "Yeah, your pen pal asked me to give this to you the next time I came here. Mentioned something about saving on postage. I'll give it to you if you skip the personal questions."

"I do not believe withholding someone's mail in a bad attempt at blackmail is entirely legal but I'll play along…" Josh agreed, gesturing towards the drawer at the far end of his cell. Eyeing Josh suspiciously, Marcus went to the drawer and put it in. As soon as Josh had the letter in his hand, he said, "…for one question."

"Hey!" Marcus barked.

"I never said I would let you off the hook, just that I would play along," Josh said ominously. "Be grateful that I didn't totally go back on my word. Now to your business. Who was the victim and was she another prom candidate?"

"She's this ginger girl that was running for prom queen," Officer Barbrady answered.

"A ginger?" Josh looked a bit queasy there for a second but just as quickly as it showed up, he had regained his composure. "That is incidental, Officer Barbrady. She was attacked because of what she was doing."

"Of course!" Barbrady exclaimed, catching on to something the guys over at the PCPD had already figured out. "It was _because_ she was running for prom queen that she was attacked!"

Marcus found that he was sharing a look with Josh. Barbrady…was a little slow wasn't he?

"You should really be asking yourselves why someone would want to attack girls running for prom queen, officers," Josh said. "Your attacker seems to have a vendetta against anyone running for that particular position. Find out just who does not like prom queens…or—"

"Check out the girls running for prom queen, you already told us that," Marcus cut him off. "You're not giving us anything new."

"Shush, Mikey! Let the criminal genius speak," Barbrady hushed him.

"It's Marcus," Marcus grumbled.

"You seem to be ahead of me then Officer _Marcus_," Josh drawled, ignoring Barbrady's comment.

"Just tell us something new," Marcus demanded.

"Then quid pro quo, tell me why you chose the illustrious South Park Police Department as the starting point for you law enforcement career," Josh said.

Oh no, they were back to this crap again. Damn it, he knew he should have extracted some kind of promise or binding contract from this asshole!

"Don't do this," he warned the juvenile.

"Do what?" Josh asked innocently.

"Just answer him and get this over with Monty," Barbrady complained.

"Fine," Marcus huffed. "My girlfriend has family here so I didn't have to shell out a lot for a place to stay."

"Sounds very mercenary but you aren't one so you're repeating what somebody said," Josh remarked. "Did your girlfriend put that into your head? Do you listen to every suggestion people give you and then accept them? Do you not possess a backbone?"

Marcus wished that plate of plastic did not exist between them because right now, he wanted nothing more than to strangle this bratty bastard.

"As I recall, it was your girlfriend who told you South Park would be a good place to start," Josh said. "Do you know why she would suggest such a thing?"

"She told me she missed her family," Marcus grumbled unwillingly.

"It sounds more like your girlfriend is playing you to me," Josh commented, "but I never met her so my opinion doesn't matter, does it?"

Marcus scowled but only spat out, "Quid pro quo."

"Right you are," Josh agreed. "Other than the certainty that the other candidates are in danger, the only thing I can tell you to do is see if other such crimes had occurred before. You might be dealing with a serial assaulter who may have done such a thing before. A drifter whose rage is triggered by all the things that prom stand for."

"A perfect stranger comes into town and attacks girls running for prom queen?" Barbrady asked out loud. "Sounds good to me!"

"Quite," Josh deadpanned. "Now go on and do your little cop things. I'll just use my time to catch up with Axman and compose my next pen later. Maybe next time you'll deliver it and bring me some toilet paper while you're at it…"

* * *

><p>Mari glanced over at Wendy, who had not only been looking pissed off but also had been spending a lot of time with her recently, and sighed, knowing that she was going to regret doing this.<p>

"Who pissed in your Kool-Aid?" she asked, totally ignoring Roxi when she began speaking first.

"I'm just so exhausted!" Roxi announced. "I feel like I could sleep for a whole month! Nothing's been going on whenever I go out to fi—er, I mean I'm uh…I'm…having…trouble going out to get sleeping pills?"

"I'm not talking to you," Mari said dismissively, already regretting opening her mouth. Damn it, she knew when she needed to be quiet! Talking only got her involved in crap that she had no need to get involved with, Roxi moonlighting as a "superhero" just being one of many.

"So rude," Roxi huffed, spurned from the reprimand. Then she noticed Wendy was still them and felt the need to annoy Mari more by speaking up again. "What's up with you?"

"Who does that bastard think he is?" Wendy huffed, becoming angrier by the second. At least, that's how it looked to Mari. Was the girl about to launch another campaign against some injustice that offender her again? First punishing cheating men by creating the dreaded super-AIDS, then it was rousing a mob to hunt down a lesbian rapist who was Roxi in reality, so what was it this time?

Please let it be Cartman. At then no one important would be hurt.

"What bastard are you talking about?" Roxi asked, sparing Mari the responsibility of having to, gasp, continue the conversation. Can you read the sarcasm there?

"Bain, who else?" Wendy growled. "Bastard usurps me on prom committee…what the hell is going through that head of his?"

"Bain…he's a bad guy, right?" Roxi asked, eyes glowing. Mari was rolling hers as she figured that Roxi was only interested in the aspect of taking some baddie down and proving herself to Mysterion.

Apparently, Mysterion's lecture had not had much effect on _Le Chat Noir_ but then again, Roxi wasn't going out as often so maybe it did?

For some reason, Mari had this nagging feeling about that name. Something about the night when Roxi first showed her costumed persona to Mysterion at that construction yard. Nah, it was probably not important.

"What took you so long to figure that out," Wendy snorted rudely, Roxi's eyes widening in shock. A second later, the girl sighed and said, "Sorry, I'm didn't mean that. I'm just so frustrated!"

Mari knew she should have kept her mouth shut. But she just had to open Pandora's Box, hadn't she? Too late to close it now, she supposed.

"What'd the psychotic midget do this time?" Mari asked. It didn't matter whether she asked the question or not but since they had come this far, she might as well. "Was he the one who attacked Bebe?"

"I don't know about that but that's not why I'm upset," Wendy huffed.

"Yeah, she said that Bain took prom committee from her," Roxi piped up, getting over her offense.

"If that's it, then what's the big deal?" Mari shrugged.

"Don't you remember the last time he was involved with something at school?" Wendy asked, giving her a pointed look.

"Wasn't paying attention," Mari shrugged.

"I know I can't prove it but I know he sabotaged it," Wendy swore. "I have no doubt in my mind that something similar will happen. Sure, he's trying to be helpful and have everyone do a good job _now_ but it's just a cover, I'm sure of it."

"What, you want us to do something about it?" Mari asked. Even if Wendy did ask her to do something about it, she wasn't going to do it because she had better things to do. Like vegging out at home. She liked to veg, so what? She just hadn't been doing much vegging lately, that's all.

"Stan would have done something without needing to be asked," Wendy grumbled.

Mari raised an eyebrow at that. That was the first time she had spoken about Stan in a while. What brought that up? Not that Mari was curious or anything.

"What does Stan have to do with anything?" Roxi wondered, reinserting herself back into the discussion. "Didn't you guys, like, breakup last year? And doesn't he have a new girlfriend?"

Wendy's face reddened and without warning, the girl shoved herself off her ass and stalked away, not answering the query. The remaining two girls watched her leave until she left eyesight.

Almost automatically, Roxi turned towards her and said, "Whatever it's about, it's eating her up."

Hold on a second, Mari was getting a sense of déjà vu here…

"…she's not going to tell us, however," Roxi had continued to speak, Mari tuning out only a portion of it. Coming back, she had a feeling she knew what the other girl was about to say. "She might be willing to open up to someone she doesn't know! This looks like a job for—"

"Don't you dare!" Mari interrupted, glaring at Roxi. "Goddamn it, you practically said the same thing last time and look what happened! Wendy got a mob to try and hunt you down! Are you really so stupid as to try to go play psychiatrist with Wendy while dressed up as that ridiculous identity of yours?"

"C'mon Mari!" Roxi protested. "I'll be careful this time! I mean, what's the worst that could happen?"


	17. The Big Date

Author's Note: Took a while to write this one and almost didn't get it finished by today. I figured that if I had to make you guys wait too long, I could at least give you guys a long chapter to placate you. A big OC focus this chapter but hopefully the overall South Park feel will balance that out. After all, I've skipped a few days in order to get to Kyle's big date night. Hadn't expected to get this long of a chapter though and I had planned to put a few other, non-date-related scenes in. Didn't need to so oh well. Enjoy.

Disclaimer: I do not own South Park.

Warning: language, death

The Big Date

It had been several days since he had told the Marsh campaign to leave the negative ads up and the matter had become one big headache for Bain. How was he supposed to know that _Citizens United_ would cause him this much trouble?

It hadn't been hard to find out who the root of this ever growing mess was. First you had to eliminate Token Black and then Wendy 2 and who was the only person in town their age and with the cash to throw around like this?

Wolf Black and his fucking Black Market.

No Sherlock Holmes was needed for that. Charlotte you can stop trying to call up Robert Downey Jr. now.

His confrontation with Wolf hadn't gone the way he had wanted it, especially when he decided to show up at his place of residence. Charlotte had flanked him only because Bain had swallowed the bullet and "politely" asked her to accompany him. He had even gained an advantage over Wolf from the get go!

But Wolf was a savvy businessman for a reason.

Instead of banging on Wolf's front door like some savage, Bain had been, again, polite and rang the doorbell. The person who answered was a bit surprising as it was a woman who looked just passed middle age. Still, she was homely looking and appeared to be nice in the social context.

"Is Wolf Black here?" Bain asked pleasantly, showing that he could sound like a nice person if he put his mind to it. It was just that he found it a waste of time and didn't bother with it in the first place, that was all.

"One minute," the woman had said, a sign to Bain that Wolf was indeed home. But then, "Wooldorf! Some friends of yours are at the door!"

Bain shared a shocked look with Charlotte. Then came the struggle to repress sniggers and chuckles. A losing fight yes, but laughing out loud would be rude, correct?

"Mom! I told you not to call me that in front of people!" Wolf exclaimed from the second story as he ran down the stairs fast as he could, looking the most unkempt that Bain had ever seen him.

The wet hair suggested that he had just left the shower. That was further supported by the fact that he only had suspenders on…and nothing else.

Spotting the two of them, his face flushed with embarrassment, "Ah, Mr. Synis—"

"Cyn. Is." Brain corrected with a growl.

"Whatever," Wolf dismissed. "What brings you all the way to my doorstep? The Market's not open."

"I'm not here to purchase anything, _Wooldorf_," Bain replied, reveling as Wolf visibly bristled in front of him. Oh, he had something on this asshole now!

"Then what are you here for?" Wolf demanded. "I'm a busy man and have no time for stupid shit."

"I can see that," Bain commented, eyeing Wolf's state of dress. "Perhaps you could let us inside so we can have a proper discussion and you can…gain a better sense of dress."

Wolf narrowed his eyes at Bain but stood aside to let the two in. He was in no position to bar Charlotte out, especially since not only had she seen him in such a horrible state of dress but also because she had heard his real name. Not something you wanted getting out quickly.

That was the only thing Bain liked about Wolf. You didn't have to spell everything out for him. The only quality he liked, mind you, he still hated him despite the fact he could get everything for his extracurricular needs at cheap prices!

Wooldorf's mother seemed ecstatic that her little Wolfie had invited some friends. Apparently, Wolf didn't bring home many guests and the socially starved woman was going all out, lavishing them with sweets that seemed to consist mainly of ice cream.

Wolf was not pleased with that development. "Why'd you give them the good stuff?" he whined. "I get the generic for a reason Mom! It's cheaper and I don't have to share!"

"But you rarely bring anyone over," his mother whined back. "I want them to come back!"

"Mom!" Wolf complained with that single syllable word that seemed to convey so much information.

Bain chose to remain quiet and _enjoy_ some of the sweetest tasting desert that had ever been served to him. Who knew when he would get another chance?

"You know, this practically makes this worth coming," Charlotte confided to him, shameless in not keeping it to herself. What could he say, the girl was not ashamed to speak her mind, at least when it wasn't about her. She would always clam up when she was intimately involved in something. Still, when it came to Wolf, her biting remarks might come in handy.

Once Wooldorf, excuse him, Wolf had shooed his mother away, it was down to business, as it always was with him. "Alright, if you're not here to buy something then what the hell are you here for?" he demanded.

Taking another spoonful of ice cream—ooh, this flavor was an interesting one. Chocolate swirls, confetti-like sprinkles, what was this one called? Never mind, time to get back to the matter at hand.

"I wanted to know what the hell you were thinking," Bain said casually as he looked Wolf in the eye.

Wolf frowned. "What do you mean?"

"The super PACs," Bain stated blandly.

"What about them?" Wolf asked.

"What possessed you to start so many of them?" Bain demanded, glaring out right at Wolf.

"Why do you care what I do with my hard earned money," Wolf said flippantly. "What has it got to do with you?"

"I'm wondering how moronic you have to be to start…how many super PACs are there? Ten? Twelve?" Bain practically snarled at the entrepreneur.

"I'm covering my bases," Wolf replied, not at all repentant. "Why support one candidate when I can support them all and then when someone wins, they owe me one."

"You do realize you're losing money," Bain deadpanned.

"I stand to gain more when whoever wins makes it easier for me to do business," Wolf said, smirking wolfishly. "However much I lose now I stand to gain more than double afterwards."

"Do you really think prom queens have that kind of power?" That was Charlotte who asked because Bain was too slackjawed to ask it himself.

"Why have a debate if it didn't?" Wolf shrugged in answer.

"You're an idiot," Charlotte rolled her eyes at him.

"I don't have to take that from you," Wolf frowned at her.

"Disband the damn PACs," Bain ordered, finally getting his wits back. "The controversy is giving me an unwarranted headache."

"More motivation for me to keep funding them," Wolf said dryly, crossing his arms triumphantly.

"You're going to keep those super PACs going just because you don't him?" Charlotte asked.

"Sure," Wolf answered. "I like his money. I don't like him. And what will he do about it? Who else can he go to to get some not so legal things and not have any questions asked? I could give him a golden shower here and now and he won't do a damn thing to me because no one else will sell him the stuff he needs."

"I'm right here," Bain growled.

"So you are," Wolf said, shrugging again, not caring in the slightest of offending one of his customers.

Bain looked like he wanted to lunge at the young capitalist and quite frankly, he wanted to do more than lunge at him. He did manage to say through gritted teeth, "Should I slip the fact—"

And was then interrupted by Wolf.

"Threatening to spill the beans about my business to the school administration? Don't bother," Wolf snarked. "They're some of my biggest customers! Who else smuggles in alcohol onto school grounds better than me? They know about me and like Wallmart, I have suckered them into becoming more of my clientele. You're going to have to do better than that, Sinus."

Bain seethed, not bothering to correct the mispronunciation of his last name. He was glad that he had Winslow on him and his fingers were twitching, desperate to clench onto its handle. Too much stress was wearing him down. Somebody needed to die.

Now preferably but not realistically.

"If you have nothing else to bitch about, please leave." Let it not be said that Wolf Black was not at least courteous when bidding farewell to customers, both current and potential.

Bain decided to finish up the bowl Wolf's mother had given to him, trying to at least salvage some kind of victory. Wolf looked ticked but even then, the action was juvenile, even for Bain. Leaving behind a bowl of melted ice cream, he shoved himself out of his seat.

As he passed by Wolf, who was watching him like a hawk, Bain reached into a pocket on his trenchcoat and pulled out a small piece of paper.

"I lied about not purchasing anything. The school would like to see if you can get your hands on these materials," Bain grunted, feeling as if he was rubbing salt into his own wounds. Wolf's smirk only rubbed it in more as he took the piece of paper.

Not even looking at it, Wolf said, "We'll see."

Winslow was just a flick of the wrist away…

And then Charlotte was leading him out of the house by his arm and passing by a desperate mother who wanted them to know they were welcomed to come back at any time and to not leave her to her social isolation, please come back!

"Happy?" Charlotte asked once they were out the door.

"What do you think?" Bain growled pointedly at her.

Sighing, Charlotte said, "Don't track blood into my house if you come by."

* * *

><p>As soon as the door had closed behind the two visitors, Wolf's smug smile dropped into a scowl.<p>

How could his mother use his full name? And especially in front of outsiders! He had purposely done his best to make sure none of the assholes at school found out that his full name was Wooldorf! And what had his mother been thinking when she named him that at birth?

He would have been ripped alive in elementary school if anyone had found out about it.

"I do hope they come back," his mother mourned as she retreated back to…wherever she spent most of her time. He wasn't home enough to know what she did when he wasn't here.

Whatever, might as well finish up getting ready. He'd use the downstairs bathroom instead of trekking back upstairs again. He wasn't the most physically fit person, you know.

Along the way to the bathroom, he paused by the den where the usually closed door was opened enough for him to get a glimpse in. It also allowed the person in there to see him too.

"You! Good-fer-nuthin' nephew! Make yerself useful and get me a shit load of six packs!" his uncle, better known as the infamous bus driver that drove the late bus, bellowed at him. "I'm runnin' on empty here!"

"I'm not getting you booze," Wolf deadpanned.

"You think yer better than me, is that it?" his uncle, the bus driver, demanded. "Do I need ta get out mah whompin' stick?"

Wolf had a feeling that he was going to be opening up later than usual today.

* * *

><p>Violet had been looking forward to this night all week long. Tonight was the night that she went out with Kyle, the boy with whom she had a crush on. Her heart was racing already just from the thought of it. It was a wonder that she hadn't gotten a heart attack yet.<p>

Of course, there was a reason why she ought to have a heart attack. Over the past couple of days, Damien had been watching her. No, watching wasn't quite the right word. Staring her down? Threatening her with his eyes? Something like that?

Whatever it was, the looks she always caught him throwing were these looks that always made her blood run cold. Why was that? Why should she be afraid of him? He had said that he wouldn't interfere!

Right. The rest of MUFFDIVER hadn't believed that either so that was why the girls were getting together to run interference in case Damien tried to crash. Why Kyle associated with him, she had no clue.

Alright, time to check her teeth, just like her dad wanted her too. Yep, dentally perfect as usual, satisfactory to her father's strict hygiene guidelines. Did it just get brighter in here?

A knock on her bedroom door alerted her to a visitor and she looked away from her mirror just as her father was opening the door. Aw, it wasn't Kyle. Oh well, plenty of time for him to show up, provided nothing happened.

"How's my little angel doing?" her father greeted her and when he smiled at her, Violet had to narrow her eyes slightly as the room got brighter again. Not as much as before though. "Excited?"

"Uh huh," she answered, nodding her head just like she did when she was younger.

"That's good," her father said. "Can I take a look at your teeth?"

"No, Dad," she complained happily, giggling a bit.

"I just want to be sure that the boy taking you out is dazzled by your beautiful smile," her father explained innocently. "Come on. Open up."

Had she mentioned that her father was a dentist? Just like that guy in _The Hangover_! That's right, he was a doctor!

Obeying her father, she opened up, not surprised when he poked and prodded around with one of his dentist tools. "Yes. Yes," her father murmured. "Yep, perfect and healthy as always. You've been taking great care of your chompers."

"Only because you make me," she said teasingly back.

"I'll try to make sure you're mother does come up and try to…talk adult things with you. You don't need to hear about those things just yet," her father said, a bit uncomfortable.

Yeah, her mother liked giving her "the talk." A lot. In fact, she gave her "the talk" a lot. Her poor dad just couldn't handle the fact that his little girl was growing up. It was cute.

Turning back to her mirror, she did some touchup with her hair, trying to work out a couple stubborn curls. This was done more out of anxiety than anything. She was nervous, okay? This was her first date and she wanted it to go perfectly.

But what if something went wrong? What if she ended up not leaving a good impression on Kyle? No, don't think like that Violet! Show him what you got and surely, he would have to see that there could be a relationship between them. A boyfriend-girlfriend relationship, that is.

She could hear the doorbell from downstairs ring and maybe it was a minute, maybe two, but she could hear her father yell, "YOU KNOCK UP MY DAUGHTER AND I WILL END YOU, DO YOU HEAR ME!"

Sounds like Kyle had showed up. Her dad was so funny, always trying to scare the guys that came over. It was cute.

Shaking her head, she picked up her green pea colored coat and headed down stairs to save Kyle from being traumatized by her overly enthusiastic dad.

* * *

><p>From her seat on the passenger's side, Gwendolyn watched through binoculars as Violet and Kyle left Violet's house, heading for the highway.<p>

"They're on the move," Gwendolyn reported to the carful of MUFFDIVERs. "Put this thing into gear and follow 'em."

"Anybody see that goth wannabe around here?" a MUFFDIVER asked.

"Not yet but just because you don't see him doesn't mean he's not there," Ella commented, watchful from the driver's seat. "Keep your eyes peeled."

And they were off.

* * *

><p>From across the street, Cartman watched as Kyle took off with that sucker of a girl that he must have…tricked, no hypnotized into going out with him. Well, like he was about to let that Jewrat get away with—<p>

"You're following after them, hoping to use the excuse of taking me out on a date in order to ruin Kyle's night, right?" Brianna asked dryly from where she sat.

"No! No, I just…Kyle's a Jew and Jew always know where all the good places to go on a date are," Cartman said quickly, making stuff off from the top of his head. Damn it, he can't believe that he actually said something that made Jews look _good_…

"Whatever. Do you think I'm that stupid?" Brianna said sarcastically.

"Do you really think I think that little of you?" Cartman huffed, trying and succeeding at sounding offended. "I can't believe…haven't I shown you how much I'm into you yet?"

"Just shut up and drive," Brianna looked away from her bitch, because no matter what Cartman said, they both knew who really had the pants in this relationship. "I'm only going along with this shit because I expect you to at least try and let me enjoy tonight even though all that will happen is that whatever you do will backfire. Horribly. Might as well get a laugh out of it."

"You wound me with your words," Cartman said dramatically. Nevertheless, he put Brianna's father's car into gear and took off after Kyle, cutting right in front of another car that was full of girls.

Women drivers.

* * *

><p>Unbeknownst to Cartman and the car full of MUFFDIVERs that followed after him, precariously balancing and laying on the back bumper of the car Cartman was driving was none other than Damien. Since Charlotte refused to drive him anywhere and he didn't feel like abusing his powers to follow after Kyle, he decided to hitch a ride of sorts.<p>

How he was managing to stay on such a small portion of the car that luckily stuck out of the car, logic dictated that the abilities contained within his demonic blood was responsible for it.

Because the car Cartman was driving was of the black shade, Damien easily blended in with in due to his own black clothing but to ensure that his unnaturally pale skin didn't stick out, he wore a piece of clothing that would cover.

It was real easy to get your hands on a ski mask in Colorado, you know.

* * *

><p>Further down the street, watching after the car full of MUFFDIVERs, Barbrady trailed after, Marcus at his side.<p>

A call from the Longs had the two police officers trailing after the daughter of Justin and Vanessa Long, two parents who wanted a tail put on their child to ensure that she wouldn't be harmed. The daughter in question, Gwendolyn, was not to know about them as per instructions.

Thus Barbrady did not turn on his lights. They were supposed to stay incognito, you know.

"Shouldn't we use an unmarked car?" Marcus asked.

"Nonsense," Barbrady replied. "We use an unmarked car and then no one on the road will respect us."

"But won't she notice that there's a cop car following her?" Marcus asked.

"Hmm…I don't know," Barbrady said after a moment.

"So…" Marcus prompted.

"We'll stick…with this car," Barbrady said, putting the pedal to the metal and following after Gwendolyn's car.

"But we'll stick out like a sore thumb!" Marcus exclaimed.

"We sure will," Barbrady agreed, making no effort to do anything that related to Marcus' suggestions.

* * *

><p>The place that Kyle had ended up deciding on taking Violet was a small carnival that he had spotted on a recent trip with his parents out of town. That trip had been to visit and dine with some relatives over in Denver and along the way, both going to and coming back, he had noticed this fair being set up.<p>

Noting the town he had seen it in and an exhaustive internet search later (because contrary to popular belief, you didn't automatically find what you're looking for when using a search engine), he had found out that it was going to be around for about a week, the date of his, well, date falling during that time frame.

Might as well take advantage of it because he didn't care for any of the recent releases at the theater and the ones he had seen he didn't want to see twice. What could he say, South Park wasn't that big and as a result didn't have a lot of attractions.

This carnival would have to suffice. At least there were a few rides, three or four from his last count, though nothing like a roller coaster which would have been neat.

He wondered if he could keep Violet entertained here for anywhere between two and three hours. If an hour passed and she was not happy, well, he was fucked then, wasn't he?

Hopefully the cash his mother let him have for the carnival games would last more than just one booth. You never knew how much the carnival people would try to swindle out of you.

Only too late did he recall his last experience at a carnival. All that crap and for a bunch of Terrance and Phillip dolls that were crappily made. Oy vey, it was looking like this was going to be a long night wasn't it?

Maybe the bright lights would distract both of them from how much this was going to suck.

He overheard Violet say softly, "Pretty colors," fully enamored with the sight of the place. He tried to eye her unobtrusively, wondering where that came from. Probably nothing, probably her trying to make the best out of this before the suckage began.

He really needed to be more optimistic, didn't he? All this pessimism was killing his mood long before disappointment could. Maybe he should have called up Stan or Kenny, or heck, even Gary for dating advice. He had rarely been the one to take someone else on a date and before anyone says anything, he did not count Natalie Portman. That was just to open up her wormhole, nothing less.

Could he not be more awkward?

Getting out of the parked car and opening up Violet's side, because that was the gentlemanly thing to do, he steeled himself and led Violet into the carnival that was already threatening to suck his soul dry.

"So what do you want to do first?" he asked as neutrally as he possibly could.

Violet bit her lip in thought, seriously considering her choices. Kyle allowed her to continue to think while he bought them their admittance, scowling internally at the steep cost. Four bucks for an adult? Outrageous! A year ago it was only three!

"How about we walk around first and see if anything looks good?" Violet suggested after a few minutes of thought, also being noncommittal.

"Sure," Kyle agreed, feeling more stressed than he thought he should be.

* * *

><p>"Alright girls, we're here!" Gwendolyn announced as she got out of the car. "Once we get in split up and keep an eye out for Violet and Kyle! If you see Damien around, make sure he doesn't do anything to ruin this night!"<p>

"We got it already," Ella grumbled. Looking towards the admittance booth, she asked, "Pay our way?"

Also noticing the booth, it was Gwendolyn's turn to grumble as she reached into her purse. It was because she had cash that she was being made to pay. If only that could be considered discrimination…

* * *

><p>"Can Kahl get any gayer?" Cartman complained. He refused to admit that he was mesmerized by all the pretty colors…<p>

"Different from dinner and a show," Brianna shrugged. "I hope you're ready to shell out some cash and win me some prizes."

Well played Kyle, well played. Take your girl out to a place where the second poorest kid in school would have a hard time financially. Your Jew mind truly was a worthy adversary but not for long! His belief in Jesus as his Lord and Savior would trump any of your devious Jew tricks…

Speaking of Jews, he could see Kyle's green ushanka up ahead. Time to move in closer and see what the Jew was up to.

All right, looked like he and his date were looking around, Kyle probably trying to find out which ones were the cheapest games or rides. Greedy Jewrat, why couldn't you share your Jew wealth the rest of us, hmm? Just another reason on the long list of reasons why people didn't like Jews.

"So are you just going to stalk Kyle like the closet homosexual you are or are you actually going to try and have some fun?" Brianna cut through his musings.

"Who the fuck are you calling homo?" he demanded, glaring at her.

"The guy who hired a queer to guard him and is so obsessed with this one kid at school," Brianna said pointedly, staring him down.

Behind them, having been with them the whole time but deliberately ignored was said bodyguard, Jake, who exclaimed, "What'd you call me?"

Having never been able to refuse Brianna anything, mainly because he had had too few opportunities to do so and also that he had been _trained_ well, Cartman gave in and turned towards the nearest game stall.

Looked easy enough; all you had to do was throw a ball through a hole in a board that had a picture of Jennifer Love Hewitt on it. Looked easy enough.

"Ey! Carnival folk!" Cartman called. "How much to play?"

"Five dollars for three balls," came the reply.

"What? Five bucks? That's outrageous!" Cartman bellowed.

"Just shut up and play the damn game," Brianna interrupted his tirade.

"Alright, alright," Cartman huffed as he shelled out the cash. Getting his balls, Cartman took a stance, aimed carefully, his tongue peeking out between his lips. Then he let it rip, throwing the ball straight at Jennifer Love Hewitt's mouth…

…and hitting her in the cheek, missing the hole entirely.

That just made him mad.

"Take this Jennifer Love Hewitt!" Cartman yelled and threw his second ball. He missed again, hitting the picture where the forehead would be.

"You suck," Brianna stated blandly.

"Totally," Jake agreed.

"Oh yeah? I'd like to see you try, ya pansy!" Cartman challenged Jake. He would have issued his challenged to Brianna but Jake had redirected his attention towards his gay ass so it would have to be him who suffered.

"Alright," Jake agreed, taking the last ball. With almost no effort, Jake threw the ball straight at Jennifer Love Hewitt's mouth and got the ball right into it.

What none of them had known was that the ball was too big for the hole and thus the ball stuck into it for a second before popping out.

"What the hell was that?" Jake demanded incredulously. "I got her in the mouth!"

"Yer supposed to get the ball through the mouth," the carnival worker shrugged. "Better luck next time."

Oh, Cartman was so going to declare shenanigans for this…

* * *

><p>Kyle had insisted they not go but Violet had wanted to check out what the Chamber of Farts was about.<p>

It wasn't any better than it was the last time he had ridden it. At least not all the rides looked lame. There looked like a couple of modern ones, like this strange looking apparatus called the Gravitron. People always came out of it having trouble standing. Might be something to do later.

However, for the intermediate future, Kyle had a feeling that they were going to be spending some time with the games and stuff. He also had a feeling that he was being watched but whenever he went to actually search out a familiar face, he found nada. He could have sworn he saw someone with a walkie-talkie, though. Was he paranoid or something? Hopefully not because the last thing he needed was another thing for Cartman to make fun of.

But just because he may have been paranoid didn't mean that there weren't people watching him. He couldn't think of a reason why anyone would want to watch him of all people so he wouldn't voice his suspicions to anybody just yet. He needed more concrete proof than just a feeling.

In the meantime, time to entertain Violet for a bit.

"Anything you want to do?" he asked pleasantly.

As he expected, Violet made the suggestion of looking at the games. Sure they had just walked through them but apparently, she wasn't in the mood for any of the rides yet.

"Ay! This is bullshit!"

Wait a minute, that voice sounded familiar. Not just the voice but the whole sentence structure? Was Cartman here? But why would…never mind, he had a good idea as to why. He had yet to see him, though, but if it sounded like Cartman then Cartman it had to be.

That was his logic and he was sticking with it.

Focus Kyle, focus. You're here to have a good time, alright? Don't let the thought of that fatass ruin it. Just play one of the expensive carnival games. You can do that. Win Violet something or…something.

Hmm, that one look good. He directed Violet over towards the booth that he had spotted, eyeing the balloons that were attached to some kind of large board. Noticing some darts on the booth's counter, he figured that the object of this game was to pop the balloons with the darts. Sounded easy enough. At least he hoped so.

"Hey, how much to play?" Kyle asked out loud to the inattentive worker.

"Five bucks, four darts," the worker said, perking up a bit. Must be a slow night for him or something.

Looking over to Violet to see if she thought it was reasonable, the girl just smiled back at him patiently, waiting for him to make the decision. Resisting the urge to roll his eyes, he looked up at the prizes that were offered…and realized why it was a slow night. No stuffed animals that girls went gaga over or anything.

Still, he might as well try.

"Four darts," he ordered, shelling out the cash.

Four darts he received.

From what he could tell, this was rudimentary. However, he only trusted carnival folk as far as he could throw, which wasn't far at all. Who knew if the game was rigged? If throwing a ball at a hole in a board could be rigged, what were the odds a dart-throwing game would be rigged?

Only one way to find out.

Taking aim, Kyle threw his dart…

…and managed to pop a balloon on his first hit.

It took a moment for Kyle's brain to register it. Was…was this game not rigged? That…that was…well…it was sweet! Violet was congratulating him and he felt his ego swell with pride. Time to pop another one of these suckers. He aimed and threw his second dart…

…and got another pop. Wow. This game was freakin' easy! Let's see if he could pop two more.

His third shot…missed. Maybe that was because it landed close to where his first dart hit. A bit discouraging but he still had one dart left! Let's throw the damn thing and—

How the hell did that happen? He landed close to his second dart and didn't pop anything! Maybe he should have aimed better…or was this some carnie psychological trick? Make him think that he could own this game and then swipe victory away? But how could you do that with such a game?

"Play again?" the carnie drawled.

"Don't I get a prize now?" he asked, frowning.

"Sorry but ya gotta hit three balloons to get a prize," the carnie replied.

Continuing to frown, Kyle placed another five bucks down.

* * *

><p>Gwendolyn had eagle eyes here. Violet and Kyle were within her sight and so she tucked herself out of their sight and continued to keep a look out for a certain date crasher.<p>

Let's see what you got Damien. Bet you're not expecting for Violet's girls to have her back, do you? MUFFDIVERs stick together through thick and thin!

"Tango, tango, I have our targets in sight. What are your statuses?" Gwendolyn spoke into a walkie-talkie. Probably should invest in something more high tech but she had been so busy lately that she couldn't get her hands on that kind of stuff.

"_I see them too. Also on the lookout for potential problems, over,"_ Ella reported back.

"_I can see them from the Ferris Wheel—no wait, I can't. I'll have to wait until this thing goes all the way around again, over,"_ a fellow MUFFDIVER called in.

"_Um, is Eric Cartman a potential problem? Over,"_ a second MUFFDIVER asked.

Cartman? What was he…? Gwendolyn shook her head. "Yeah, he's a potential problem. And if he isn't, keep an eye on him so that he doesn't become one."

"_Cartman's moving! He's…I think he's heading towards another booth! Is Violet there? Over."_

"_Which booth are they moving towards? Over,"_ Ella demanded.

"_I can't see! Over."_

"_I'm back in sight and Cartman is moving towards the targets, over."_

Christ, what was Cartman doing there? They were supposed to keep an out for Damien, not that fat bastard! Oh wait, Gwendolyn could see him, no them now. Looks like Cartman didn't come alone! He had a girl with him and there was some gay guy following him. ETA to Violet and Kyle, twenty seconds.

"Tango, tango, we need to prevent an encounter! Someone, stop them!" Gwendolyn ordered. When no one responded, she remembered to add, "Over."

"_How close are you, Gwen? I don't think I can make it, over,"_ Ella responded.

Christ. "I'm going for interception, over," Gwendolyn said and put her walkie-talkie up. How was she going to distract Cartman from reaching Violet and Kyle? She had maybe five seconds tops and the clock was ticking!

When she was nearly five feet away from the fat boy, nothing had come to mind and so Gwendolyn decided to go for broke. She "tripped" and ran right into Cartman, jostling him and forcing him to bump into the short-haired brunette at his side.

"Oh! Sorry! I tripped and I…I…" Gwendoyln tried to use her underused acting talents and look as sorry as possible. Cartman looked like he was about to retort but he was, surprisingly enough, beaten to the punch and by the girl at his side whose brown eyes were flaming with anger.

"Watch where you're fucking going! You made this asshole step on my fucking foot!" the girl snarled at her and Gwendolyn found herself having to take a step backwards. Hold on, why was she stepping backwards? It was an accident! A self-manufactured accident but an accident nonetheless! "Just because you're running for fucking Prom Queen doesn't give you the right to do what you want Wendy 2!"

Now Wendy 2—fucking Christ, now she was calling herself that Goddamn name! She was so going to sue the next person who called her that! Now where was she? Oh right, replying.

"Don't fucking call me that!" she roared at the girl. Huh, she knew she had seen that girl around before but she couldn't put her finger on it.

"Can I shoot somebody?" the gay guy close to them asked, his hand tucked into the ridiculous suit he was wearing.

* * *

><p>Kyle was frustrated as his last dart missed, again. He managed to at least pop six balloons but he had already spent, like, twenty bucks on this thing! He was reaching for another five but then some loud arguing from nearby stopped him.<p>

Sounded like a fight was starting up. Time to bail before they were unwillingly involved.

"Calling it quits," he muttered to Violet, jerking his head in the direction of the voices.

"Okay," Violet agreed.

Huh, immediate agreement. He didn't get that often but…no, his head was just messing with him. Turning back to the carnie, he demanded his prize and received two Bono picks for his trouble.

What the fuck was this shit?

The voices were growing louder so instead of getting into an argument himself, he led Violet away from the booth.

* * *

><p>Damien kept his eyes trained on the moving figure that was Kyle, purposefully trying to ignore the presence of his date. Idly, he sipped at the beverage that he had picked up, using it as an excuse to do something mindlessly.<p>

Were you having fun yet Kyle? Enjoying yourself yet? From where he was watching, that didn't seem to be the case. Cute of you to try and take an initiative but truthfully, how comfortable are you in that position?

He would just watch and not interfere as he had said. He may have been evil incarnate but he always kept his word.

Go on, Kyle, try your best to have fun. Be happy. Do so if you can.

* * *

><p>"I wonder where that girl went," Barbrady asked out loud, worming his way through the crowd of carnival goers. "Gosh, there's so many people."<p>

"I don't think it's in our job description to be doing this," Marcus tried to unsuccessfully point out as he was jostled by passing people. "Aren't we supposed to be looking after the town? Trying to catch political terrorists?"

"Yes but she's um…what's that word?" Barbrady stopped speaking in the middle of his sentence as he tried to recall just what he had been saying. He forgot what he had been trying to say midway through and had thus stopped midway in his sentence, a logical thing to do, right? He knew there was something he was forgetting but what was it?

"She's what?" Marcus asked, hoping to prompt him into finishing.

"Who's what?" he asked back, confused about what his partner was trying to say.

"You…you were saying something but just stopped," Marcus explained. "You were saying the Long girl was something but never said what she was."

"I was?" Barbrady wondered. "What was I saying about her?"

Why was Marcus looking at him like that? Did he have something on his face?

"We should just find her and make sure she's not in any trouble, I guess," Marcus sighed, looking away.

"That sounds a great plan," Barbrady agreed. Boy, he sure was rubbing off the guy. He had been thinking the same thing! Hadn't he? Whatever, now let's find that girl and make sure she's safe. Then maybe he could get his hands on something to eat. Those hot dogs he kept seeing around sure looked tasty.

Hearing loud noises, the two South Park cops looked towards the gaming booths where a small crowd was gathering.

"Sounds like something's going on over there," Marcus said.

"Probably a local winning big, ignore it," Barbrady said dismissively. "We have more important things to do."

* * *

><p>"They're on the move, I repeat, they're on the move, over," Ella said into her walkie-talkie.<p>

"_They're out of my sight! Do you still have a visual, over?"_

"Affirmative," Ella said, keeping up with the moving couple. "Gwendolyn, are you still there? Over."

Nothing but static and Ella frowned. What was that girl doing? Was she refusing to respond to her because she called her by her first name again? Sure she had a long name but what did it matter? She couldn't call her Wendy because then she would be tempted to call her Wendy 2 and calling her by her middle name, Ashley, was just too lame.

"Gwendolyn? I'm not calling you by any other name. Do you copy, over?" Ella demanded into her bulky communication device.

Not an answer though there were some loud voices coming from where Violet and Kyle left. Whatever.

Looked like the couple was leaving the games and heading towards one of the rides. Okay, apparently someone was tired of playing rigged games though how a balloon popping game could be rigged was beyond her.

It also looked like the pair had decided on a ride too. They were getting in line and though the name slipped her mind, Ella recognized the ride as being a common one at decent carnivals. It consisted of a large apparatus that essentially spun in a circle but had four legs that connected to groups of bench seats that spun in smaller circles.

It looked like the two were going to be going in the next grouping. Ella felt she could relax for a bit and wait for them to leave, maybe get something to eat or drink while they had the time of their lives on that ride, when she spotted a dark clad figure also get in line.

"I think I see something," she reported. "I'm going to get a closer look, over."

"_Be careful, I thought I saw that Damien kid nearby, over."_

"_I'm getting back on the Ferris wheel, over."_

Choosing to ignore as the other MUFFDIVERs began to debate why one of them needed to stay on a Ferris wheel the whole time, one arguing they needed a high vantage point while the other accused the girl of having fun on Gwendolyn's dime, Ella made her way towards the line, trying to get a good look at the dark clad figure.

Her eyes narrowed when she finally recognized that it was indeed Damien. So the asshole was finally making his move.

Just then, the ride came to a stop and the riders began exiting, some getting back into line so they could ride again. Ella realized that not only would Violet and Kyle be getting on but so would Damien. What he would do there, she did not know but she was determined to prevent it, whatever it could be.

So she got in line, making sure to squeeze on in once new riders were permitted to enter. She kept her eyes on Damien, walking quickly behind him. Damien didn't seem to notice her, his eyes trained on the pair. He was probably going to try and get a nearby seat or maybe get on the same seat as the loving couple.

Not on her watch!

She snagged Damien by his arm and dragged him to the nearest seat, Damien eyeing her in amusement as she forced him to sit down and taking the seat next to him for herself.

The safety bar was put in place and now she was imprisoned with the Antichrist himself as her ridding buddy.

"Spoiled your fun yet?" Ella reproached, glaring smugly at him.

"What fun are you speaking about?" Damien asked back in reply.

"You think I don't know that you're here to crash Violet's date?" Ella accused him.

"Is that what you think?" Damien chuckled at her menacingly. "You haven't considered the possibility that I might just be here to have some fun of my own and it's just a coincidence that your friend came here for her date?"

"Coincidence? I'm not that stupid," Ella retorted, not paying attention as the ride began to move. "Kyle's gay stalker just happens to be in the same place at the same time he's on a date with a—" and here she was cut off and she found herself being squished into the side of the bench seat, Damien pressed right up against her.

Attacking her, huh? He was going to regret that move; there was a reason why she was the boxing champ—and then she was sliding along the seat to the other side and now she was the one pressed up to Damien.

Before she knew it, she was sliding back against the seat but now she was in the frame of mind to grab hold of the safety bar and stop her sliding. Only now did she realize that the ride was active. And now Damien was forced into her side before he copied her and grabbed the safety bar himself.

How had she not noticed that until now?

"What were saying?" Damien said loudly so that she could hear.

Trying to egg her on, eh?

"You don't fool me; I know you're here to ruin Violet's date," Ella stated with the assuredness of any teenage girl. "Why don't you leave Kyle and let him spend time with a normal girl? You know, be normal for once?"

She might have spoken too soon on that one. From where she sat, Violet was laughing in glee, her pearly whites visible to every single light source in the immediate vicinity. A bad combination, especially since there were a lot of lights on the main body of the ride's apparatus.

Violet's teeth reflected enough of the lights into a singular beam of light that shot straight at the main body of the ride's apparatus and struck its base. Wires were fried and sparks shot out from the apparatus. As a consequence, the ride itself began to pick up speed, going faster and faster and faster and faster…

G-forces were pressing Ella into the back of her seat and her head was snapped back, her eyes practically rolling into the back of her skull. Damien, somehow, didn't seem affected as he sat normally, the wind buffeting him having little effect.

Without warning, one of the spinning seats broke off from one of the apparatus' legs and went flying off into the distance, taking its riders with it, their screams barely audible. Said screams came to an end when the seat crashed into the ground.

Needless to say, more than the seat was going to need to be scraped off the ground.

When a second seat went flying, Damien's eyes began to glow with unholy light. At the base of the out of control ride, shadows began to writhe then claw into the apparatus' base. Almost immediately, the ride began to slow down until it finally came to a stop.

Ella could only stare ahead blankly, her eyes wide open and unable to close, her hair frozen in a streaking fashion behind her head. When the safety bar was removed, she had trouble walking as her legs wobbled beneath her. She wasn't the only one alone in that but right now, her mind was so blank that she couldn't think straight.

A…time out seemed in order.

* * *

><p>"What do you mean it's out of order?" Cartman demanded as he glared at the carnival worker.<p>

Behind the worker, the ride in question that had gone berserk spat out a flurry of sparks and one of its legs broke off.

"Umm, routine maintenance?" the worker suggested weakly.

"Whatever, c'mon bitch," Cartman spat out, directing his last words to Brianna.

A swat on the back of his head was his answer.

"Ay! Why the hell did you do that?" Cartman scowled.

"Who are you calling bitch?" Brianna asked pointedly, giving him a look.

"No one," Cartman said quietly, looking down at his feet. Then he looked back up angrily, cursing himself for developing that conditioned response. He swore he was going to turn the tables on her one day and when he did, he'd—

Hey, wasn't that Kyle over there? He looked tired but he was being led by that girl he was with and he was…heading towards a ride. Finally! Something to have fun on! No more rigged games, no more having to lose his hard-earned (read: his mother earned) money. And of course, no more having to hear Jake bitch at him for having to carry all the carnival crap he had managed to somehow win.

"Care for a ride?" he asked Brianna with a smirk.

"Don't mind if I do!" Jake said cheerfully.

"I wasn't talking to you, dipshit," Cartman glared at Jake. Turning back to Brianna with a wry smile, "Well?"

"Okay," Brianna agreed amicably. Huh, kinda expected a fight but oh well.

"Jake, watch our stuff," he ordered his bodyguard before dragging Brianna after him while following Kyle.

Any curses he heard thrown after him were ignored. No, Cartman was on an important mission, one more important than even becoming Prom King. That mission, naturally, was crashing Kyle's date and forcing him to have a bad time. Cartman knew from experience that just hearing his voice could put Kyle in a foul mood.

A simple "whee" could do so much more than anything Cartman could say to that Jew.

Taking a look at where they were heading, Cartman was not impressed with what he saw. Who was the genius who came up with the name Gravitron? Looked like a flat-topped octagon made of metal, like someone was going for a space theme. A single door was open, allowing people to go in and what do you know, he could see that ridiculous hat of Kyle's going in.

In no time at all, Cartman had dragged Brianna inside with him. His impression of this ride just dropped a few more notches. There were no places to sit here! Just what looked like boards that were attacked to the rounded walls, bars separating each one. He noticed how riders were positioning their backs against boards and so took a space, Brianna next to him.

The door soon closed, dimming the interior of the ride that was only lit up with what looked like cheap Christmas lights. A carnie got into a booth that rested in the center of the room and Cartman sneered at the simplicity of it.

Across the room, Cartman spotted Kyle just talking with the girl he was with and Cartman had to remind himself to pretend to have fun. Remember, the goal was to piss off Kyle. Easier done than said and yes, that was the right order here.

Then the room began to move to his right. How Cartman knew that, he didn't really know though the booth the carnie was standing in looked like it was moving despite the fact it was sitting in place.

A strange force was pressing against his body and Cartman found that his back was being pressed closer and closer into the board behind him. This only seemed to be the beginning as the ride was picking up more and more speed. What was going on? Why had he gotten onto this crazy thing? Damn it he wanted off!

By this point he had forgotten all about his purpose here. Not that he would have been able to do anything about it; he was having trouble opening his mouth to voice his complaints.

Unexpectedly, the board he was being pressed against began to move, taking him with it. The next thing he knew he was two feet off the floor, being held up against the wall by the centripetal forces being exerted.

And for some reason, he was…having fun. He couldn't explain but this wasn't as bad as he had thought it was going to be.

He was so focused on himself that he did not notice that the girl Kyle was with was smile. Nor did he know that the girl's teeth were in such pristine condition that it could literally reflect light off it, sometimes at dangerous intensities. Even though the lighting was dim in here, it was still more than enough to reflect off her teeth and like a death beam shot and hit the carnie working the ride.

The beam of light pierced through the carnival worker's chest and the man was dead before he fell forward and landed on the ride's controls.

The Gravitron began to move faster and faster…

* * *

><p>"Wow. That thing's been going for almost ten minutes," Barbrady remarked, staring at the spinning ride that did not look like it was going to stop any time soon.<p>

"Doesn't that ride last five minutes or something?" Marcus asked.

"Beats the hell out of me," Barbrady shrugged.

Marcus was attempted to agree with his superior. He didn't want to raise alarm or anything but it was worrying that the ride had continued to spin, even accelerate, without stopping. The fact that some carnival workers were starting to scramble around the ride didn't waylay his fears.

"Should we help them?" Marcus asked, not taking his eyes off the workers.

"I guess we could," Barbrady said, taking the lead and walking over to the workers. "What seems to be the problem?"

"Nothing! Nothing, just, we're…um, we're trying to…make sure that nothing's broken! Right!" one of the workers answered hastily.

"Hasn't this ride been going on for too long?" Marcus asked.

"What's it to you?" another of the workers eyed him suspiciously.

"We're cops!" Barbrady said proudly. "Now, is there something going on or not?"

The workers looked at one another nervously until one cracked. "Okay, okay, something's wrong! We're trying to stop it but we can't turn it off!"

"That does sound like a problem," Barbrady commented but made no move to do anything.

"What about unplugging it?" Marcus suggested.

"Of course! We can unplug it!" someone exclaimed and a worker hurried back behind the ride.

The lights on the ride shut off and the spinning began to gradually subside. Slowly, but surely, the ride came to a full stop and as soon as it did, the workers scrambled over to where the door was.

It took a few minutes before they pried it open but as soon as that was done, a worker entered the ride's interior.

"Hey, who's the wise guy that brought a laser gun in here?"

* * *

><p>Not one but two rides. Kyle was not going to gamble going on a third. He was still trying to get over his disorientation as well as work his legs properly before he could enjoy anymore "fun" around here.<p>

If he didn't know any better, he would have thought _someone_ was out to sabotage his date tonight.

It didn't help that he kept noticing people with walkie-talkies watching him and Violet. The coordinated effort could only mean there was one person behind it. Spotting Cartman's bodyguard scowling only clinched it.

He was not about to let that fat asshole spoil this for him! No way, no how!

"How're you doing?" he looked down at the boneless girl beside him.

"Never better," Violet gasped out.

"Tell me when you're—Cartman!" Kyle had just looked away in time to spot his eternal nemesis though he looked worse for wear. Also flatter.

"No more. No more," Cartman moaned.

"I should have known you were going to try something," the Jew griped, not taking his glare off the other male. "What was your plan? Try and make me have the worst night ever by stalking me? Was that it?"

"Can't…move…body," Cartman gasped out.

"Don't think you're going to get away with this," Kyle growled, trying to will himself to his feet.

"Okay people, there's nothing to see here, everyone remain calm," Officer Barbrady's distinctive drawl manage to pierce Kyle's temper though he did not take his eyes off Cartman.

"You kids all right? Do you need medical attention?" another officer with brown hair asked, looking at them with concern.

"Fine," Kyle spat out, continuing to glare daggers at Cartman. "I would be better if this asshole wasn't trying to disrupt my date."

"Let it go," Violet urged from over his shoulder. "Let's go somewhere else, okay?"

"Are you saying this asshole was the one who killed the carnie?" Barbrady wondered, nodding his head towards Cartman. "Or is it some other asshole?"

Kyle frowned. That didn't sound like something Cartman would do. That's not to say Cartman hadn't killed people before but when he looked like every other person who had been on that ride with him, it seemed less and less likely that he was responsible. Why put himself in harm's way, even if it was to throw suspicion off him? Wasn't his style.

"Hey, aren't you two running for prom queen?" the second officer asked. That sparked a little recognition with Kyle. He had seen someone who looked like this guy at Barbrady's station when he had been taken in to answer some questions. Had forgotten the guy's name already, sure that he wouldn't have to deal with him in the future.

"Hey, that's right," Barbrady said. "If you're running for prom queen and that ride just went on the fritz while you were on it, then that must mean…"

"What does it mean?" Barbrady's subordinate asked.

"The political terrorists! They must be here in the carnival!" Barbrady exclaimed. "Gosh, you kids are in serious danger!"

"P-political terrorists?" Kyle exclaimed, flabbergasted. "What are you talking about?"

"We need to protect the innocent!" Barbrady declared, looking down at Kyle. "Sorry miss, but you're going to have to come with me."

"I'm not a girl!" Kyle cried out.

"You're going to have to come with us, for you safety," the other officer said as kindly as he could.

"Look, I've seen these people around with walkie-talkies or some shit like that wandering around here, watching us," Kyle explained as quickly as he could before he could find himself in the back of a police car.

"Then they must be still around!" Barbrady exclaimed, pulling out his revolver and oblivious to the terrified cries of other carnival goers. "Quick Matthew! We have to catch them!"

"It's Marcus," the other officer tried to correct, taking off after Barbrady who had plunged headfirst into the crowd.

Kyle had a sinking feeling that the rest of the night was about to go into the shitter.

* * *

><p>Damien narrowed his eyes thoughtfully as the fat officer took off, his lackey desperately following after him.<p>

Perhaps he should see what exactly these men knew about the attacks…

* * *

><p>"So far everything's been a success," Gwendolyn proclaimed, unaware of what had occurred at the Gravitron.<p>

Ella had only now begun to recover from her own experience. She was already mentally berating herself for how long it had taken. She was a boxer, damn it! She had taken hard blows to the head and come out of it quicker than this!

Her hair was a problem though as it seemed stuck in the same pulled-back position it had retained after the ride had stopped.

"So far, we've stopped Cartman and Damien from interfering with the date," Gwendolyn listed off, stopping for a moment to check in with the other girls. "If everything continues at the rate its going, we can call Violet's date a success then get back to getting me back together with Stan."

"You have a one track mind, you know that," Ella grunted.

"It's one of my best qualities," Gwendolyn said dismissively.

Ella snorted and turned her head away from Gwendolyn in time to see Damien passing by, intent in his step as he moved through the crowd. Now what was _he_ up to?

"Damien's on the move; I just saw him!" Ella declared, standing up on her no longer shaky legs.

"Follow him," Gwendolyn ordered. "We can't risk letting him get within fifty feet of Violet and Kyle."

Ella nodded in agreement and hurried after the Antichrist. It was best they keep an eye on him at all times to make sure he wasn't up to something. A shot of adrenaline was giving her the burst of energy she needed to catch up with her prey and soon enough, she was only a few feet away from him.

She looked ahead of Damien, trying to see what he was looking at and much to her surprise, she found him watching two men instead of the young lovers that she knew he had been stalking all night. What was up with this change?

Damien suddenly grunted and looked away from the men, Ella finding herself captured by the red eyes of the teen. A wicked smirk lifting up the corners of his mouth.

Instantly Ella was on guard as Damien stalked over to her, his hand removing something from his back pocket. For a moment, Ella thought Damien was going to run into her but at the last second, Damien moved passed her, his hand reaching out and pressing something into her stomach. Automatically she reached up and clutched at cloth and pulled it away from her. Looking at it closely, she found that she was holding up…a ski mask? What?

There was a loud whistle from behind her and she jumped, looking behind her at Damien who gave her a wink then vanished into the crowd. What was that all—

"Over there! It's one of the terrorists!" one of the men Damien had been watching proclaimed, pointing a gun straight at her. Huh, he kinda looked like Officer Barbrady… "Freeze terrorist! You are under arrest!"

Ella, at this point, had no idea what was going on but she wasn't going to stick around to find out.

* * *

><p>"Has anybody found where they are? Over," Gwendolyn asked into her walkie-talkie.<p>

"_Cartman's still down, over,"_ was one of her answers.

"_Targets are taking a rest by the concession stands, I think—hold up, I can't see them anymore. I have to wait until the Ferris wheel comes back around again, over."_

Gwendolyn rolled her eyes at that last reply but all in all, it was good news. Huh, why hadn't Ella called back in? Let's just check on her, just to be sure.

Soon, though, she didn't have to call the other girl as Ella herself showed up, somewhat frantic. "We gotta bail! We gotta bail! We gotta bail!"

"What? What's going on!" Gwendolyn cried out.

"An accomplice! I order you in the name of the law to surrender!" a voice that sounded like Officer Barbrady's rang out.

"Crap," Gwendolyn winced as Ella pulled her along.

"We gotta hide!" Ella exclaimed.

"Over there, in the Chamber of Farts," Gwendolyn directed.

"Why there?" Ella demanded.

"No one in their right mind would go in there, that's why," Gwendolyn retorted.

"But aren't we in our right minds?" Ella questioned.

"Why all the questions? What's the worst that can happen?" Gwendolyn asked.

* * *

><p>"<em>There was a deadly fire at the Connelly County Fair last night. The blaze started when two undercover officers opened fire in the dreaded Chamber of Farts ride, the shots igniting the methane gases and from there everything went to hell.<em>

"_Now, while we're not sure about this, we're reporting that a thousand people died last night and a million had severe burns. For now, it's safe to say that the fair won't be open for the rest of the week. Back to you Tom."_


	18. Anything You'd Like to Confess To?

Author's Note: There's a reference to, I think, the second chapter of _Fiends_. For those who've read it, see if you can't figure out what it is. This chapter turned out to be longer than I had planned it. I just kept writing and writing and writing and the next thing I knew, I was at 7,000 words and wasn't close to finished. Not a lot of characters but I think we're entering into the third act of this story. Whether there were acts one and two is up for debate. How much longer until this story is updated with a "complete" also remains to be unseen. And damn it, there hasn't been a Chuck Norris cameo yet. Gotta fix that in the next few chapters. Oh well. Anyway, enjoy.

Disclaimer: I do not own South Park.

Warning: language, violence

Anything You'd Like to Confess To?

Despite the fact that she was still wallowing in her own ire, Wendy had to at least admit this. Bain knew how to get stuff done.

He also seemed more relaxed for some reason. Had he gotten laid recently? And if so, she had to wonder how Charlie endured it. It didn't look like this guy was into being gentle.

Not that she wouldn't know anything about that, nope. She had no experience with that kind of person before, don't you believe anything other people might say. She did not have her cootch pounded like a hammer with a nail.

And, being real honest here, she had nothing to do with that guy's death either. At least that claim had some grain of truth to it.

But none of that matter right here and now. What did was that Bain had not only stolen her position as head of prom committee but now he was making everyone pull their own weight to try and get things ready ahead of time and before the time they had all agreed on to start working on prom itself.

Being part of prom committee had become a chore instead of the fun activity it was supposed to be.

Wendy had expected by her senior year that her senior prom wasn't going to be glamorous or upscale like some of the ones you saw in movies. She fully expected it to be in the school gymnasium with some paper banners shouting out loud that this was senior prom and to have a good time.

Some of the other girls, she knew, had thought differently, thought they were going to end up with something spectacular. Now Bain was here and it looked like he was trying to make it a reality.

She, along with all the other girls on the committee, had been forced to sign confidentiality agreements, promising that none of them would tell anybody where prom would be held. She didn't see Bain sign any agreement form, though, and she suspected there was some sexism going on.

Despite his strange change in personality, there were some things about him that had remained the same.

And across the expansive room, she could see Bain getting on one of the girls. For what, she could not tell but from Bain's aggressive stance and the girl's more submissive one, and the fact Bain's jaw was working overtime, it told Wendy that he was probably insulting her for doing something wrong or something.

God, he was such a guy!

You don't treat girls like that. They were more sensitive, more prone to take things closer to the heart. How didn't he know that?

As if she had said her thoughts through a megaphone, Bain's eyes were drawn over to her and Wendy suddenly found that she had to get back to setting up. Yeah, had nothing to do with the way his odd-looking eyes just seemed to cut through her flesh and right into her soul. None whatsoever.

Oh who was she kidding? Even though she was taller than him, as well as most of the school, Bain was a very intimidating person. How someone that short could inspire such feelings of fear was beyond her.

She growled as she fumbled with the curtain in her hands. They were supposed to hang these up along the wall? That was like two or three stories high or something! They were going to need some of those raising platforms that the work crews used to change out the burnt out light bulbs in the light fixtures that lit up the large room. She had seen the contraption on the first day of set up when a handful of bulbs had gone out simultaneously.

As a result, Bain had requested all the light bulbs be replaced so that none went out during the big night.

When she looked up from what she was doing, she noticed that their self-appointed slave driver was over by the large stage at the far end of the room. He was speaking with a girl who was the more electronically literate of them, looking up at the catwalk that was partially hidden by the stage curtains that had been here before this room was rented out and pointing at the spotlights that hung there, suspended over the stage.

What now, was he wanting a light show or something?

Something pink moving towards Bain caught her eye and Wendy left off from her task to watch some very bland looking girl approach Bain nervously. Wendy was not sure who this girl was or if she was part of the prom committee but Wendy narrowed her eyes at the pair, wondering why the only male committee member was not being as rude with her as he was with everyone else.

Was that girl on the committee? Wendy wouldn't be surprised if she was; the girl was so bland looking that she was forgettable. How someone with pink hair could be so forgettable, she wasn't able to fathom it.

Huh? Why were the two of them going off on their own? Looked suspicious.

You know, she ought to follow after them, see what they were up to. Thick as thieves one would say. …But she had so much to do over here and she didn't want to get bitched out for something she was supposed to do.

Hold up. Why did it sound like Bain's voice in her head? Why would she even think of it in the first place? Stan's voice she could see, Cartman only in the most extreme case.

The bastard was rubbing off on her too much. The next thing she'll know, she'll be rampaging down the school hallways with a chainsaw like some kind of psycho killer. Not that she didn't get that way once a month but serious, she wasn't crazy.

She had to get out of this town before she lost her mind. That was all there was to it.

* * *

><p>"You have all of the pickups, correct?" Bain questioned, his eyes boring into the Grain girl's more innocent ones.<p>

"All in my basement with convincing camouflage," Sunny confirmed.

"Then it's time we start bringing it all over and get it set up," Bain plotted. "First, I want you to follow this recipe to the letter using these ingredients. Use the corn syrup, the corn starch, the powdered cocoa, and the red coloring, mix with warm water and add a few drops of green or yellow. I hope you're writing this all down."

"Oh! Um, could you repeat all that?" Sunny asked, quickly feeling up her own person, trying to find something to write on as well as with.

"Forget it, I'll e-mail it," Bain said, rolling his eyes at the ineptitude. Should have known he was going to get this when he agreed to employ a female of all people. "Bring over the charges; I'll set those up myself. Where are the tanks? Those will need to go under the stage."

"They're not at my house. Too big," Sunny said helpfully.

"You'll have to show me," Bain said. "It still doesn't seem enough. What can be done here that will be more original? Wait, there's an idea. You'll have to do the pick up again but when you do, make sure it's brought here and set up as well. Will save us time doing it."

"Ooh, what is it?" Sunny asked and if he didn't know any better, he would have sworn she was swooning. What, she never saw a mastermind at work before? Simpleton.

"You'll find out in due time; the less you know the better and all," Bain dismissed her curiosity.

"Aww…" Sunny pouted.

Bain was not moved.

"You'll have to do better than that," he said dryly. "Now get out of here, I have an image to maintain. I'd say don't let anybody see you but that's a moot point isn't it?"

If the girl wasn't such a fan of his, she probably wouldn't have taken his verbal abuse. But she was a fan and by that fact alone would take whatever he threw out at her. Emphasis on _at_ as he would never throw _to_ her.

His absence could be passed off as a short break, one of those going out for fresh air kind of things. It was best for him to go back in then work those lazy asses in there to the bone. He needed to take advantage that this scheme afforded to him as it wasn't everyday a girl would have to do whatever he wanted of them.

* * *

><p>Gary had been optimistic until about a minute ago. Why until a minute ago? Well it had to do with something he walked in on while going to the restroom.<p>

But let's back up a bit. Before he walked in on…_that_, he had been marveling about how things were going along and not just things that were related to Stan's prom campaign. Kyra was in a relationship with Stan, something she had desired for such a long time. Sure the relationship itself was rocky at times but then what relationship was all sunshine and rainbows?

Stan was overly affectionate and Kyra, being the boyfriend-girlfriend relationship virgin she was, was overwhelmed at times. Nothing to put things into jeopardy. You couldn't say either wasn't committed because they were both people who were committed to whatever it was they were committed to. Not trying to overuse the word here but Stan and Kyra were very committed people.

That was the best he could word it.

And he was having fun with this prom election stuff. It wasn't often he got involved in such stuff but when he was involved, well he was having a ball! It was rare he was invited to take part in the things the other guys in school did. Really, it was. When he did get invited, it was usually because there was a new kid in school and the rest of the guys were going to haze him or her in some cases, did you want to join in?

He said no to that kind of stuff. He didn't like picking on new people.

None of that really mattered, though, not right now anyway. What did matter was that as soon as he opened that restroom door, he found an outrageous sight.

Outrageous was a strong word but really, what other word could you use when you walk in on someone trying to get it on with your best friend's boyfriend. Huh, it was Wendy 2 and she was trying to press herself up to Stan, giving Kyra's boyfriend a good look at her cleavage which had much of Stan's attention.

Gary was tempted to stare too but he had something that not a lot of people in this school had.

Tact.

"Am I interrupting something?" he asked, not taking his eyes off the sight before him.

While Wendy 2's face definitely said yes, Stan piped up quickly, "Nope! Nothing at all Gary! You need to take a piss? Come on in! Take your time!"

Wendy 2 huffed and leaned her face close to Stan's. "We'll continue this later, hopefully when you are Prom King and I am Queen."

When Wendy 2 pulled away and passed by him, Gary wondered why she looked like she had been too close to a fire. Was she leaving a trail of soot in her wake?

"I didn't know girls were allowed in here," Gary said as cheerfully as he could without giving away any of his thoughts.

"They're not," Stan said hastily.

"Then what was she doing in here then?" Gary wondered out loud before pinning Stan down with a look. "And why were you and her in here where anybody could have come in?"

"What? You mean someone wasn't standing guard outside?" Stan asked, blinking owlishly at him.

"Stan, tell it to me straight," Gary sighed before turning on "big brother" mode. "Are you cheating on Kyra?"

"Am I cheating on—no! Of course not!" Stan protested.

"Then what was all that?" Gary asked innocently. "You shouldn't be that close to a person unless you intentionally want to give people the wrong idea."

"I wasn't doing anything!" Stan objected. "She came in here and tried to flirt with me! I didn't want any of it but she wouldn't take no for an answer! You gotta believe me!"

"It didn't look like you were saying no," Gary said as he made his way to the closest urinal. "But I'll humor you. Tell me what happened."

"I was taking a piss, kinda like what you're doing," Stan began to explain. "She barged in, I almost pissed on the floor—"

"Try to keep to the important stuff," Gary interrupted if only to try and keep the more gross parts out. He didn't need to hear that Stan took a piss on the floor though it would explain why his pants were unzipped. …And if he looked down he could see there was a wet spot on the tiled floor and some liquid close to a nearby drain. More evidence but let's hear out the rest of Stan's story.

"Okay, okay, she comes up to me and tries to make out with me again—"

Now Gary was being rude again but something about what Stan just said had to be addressed. "Again? You mean she's come in here and you've made out with her more than once?"

"Did I just say that?" Stan asked, and his paling features looked like a death knell.

"You did," Gary confirmed, zipping up. "So…what are you going to do? Are you going to keep stringing Kyra along?"

"I didn't want any of it!" Stan declared. "I didn't want Wendy 2 coming in here and telling me to break it off with Kyra like she's some kind of queen! I told her no before but she just won't quit!"

"I'm missing something," Gary said, holding up a hand to silence Stan. "Wendy 2 told you to break up with Kyra? Is this an affair that's going on here?"

"She wishes," Stan grunted, peeved. "I broke up with Wendy 2 a long time ago and she's not over me. I kinda forgot I went out with her and ever since she won't stop trying to break me and Kyra up."

"Are you sure there's not more to it?" Gary found himself asking skeptically. He didn't want to doubt the guy he was helping campaign for but in cases like these, you needed to be tough. Also, if anybody else found out about this, then it would mean the end of Stan's bid for Prom King. Sex scandals had killed many a politician's career.

"Of course not!" Stan answered. He sounded somewhat desperate, almost like his whole world would crash down if he couldn't convince just one person that he was telling the truth. "Do you think I would cheat on my girlfriend? I never cheated when I was with Wendy. I never cheated when I was with Wendy 2. I have never cheated while I'm with Kyra. Why would I change now?"

Compelling, really, but Gary had a friend he needed to be looking out for. Otherwise he would have let the matter drop there and tried to figure out what to do with all this.

"Is there more?" he asked, moving passed Stan to the sinks. It was unhygienic to not wash your hands after going number one.

"What do you want me to say?" Stan demanded. "Do you think I wanted any of that? I'm happy with what I have with Kyra and you have to believe me that I would do nothing to hurt her! Wendy 2 just doesn't know when to quit! Have you ever tried telling her no? I've done it, a lot! But she won't take the hint!"

"Doesn't sound like a hint to me," Gary commented, soaping up as scrubbed his hands together, placing them under the running faucet. "But how do I know you aren't encouraging this kind of behavior?"

"I'm not!" Stan declared and by now, he looked kinda pitiful. If Stan was really cheating, there would have been more anger there, or so Gary thought to himself. No self-righteous person would ever lose their cool in this manner. "Believe me, I'm not! I'm a guy but I'm a one girl kind of guy. I'm not some player or Kenny or anything! I-I wish I had never gone out with her now. If I had known that this was how things were going to turn out, I wouldn't have dated her in the first place!"

Huh. Real regret. Don't see that often in a politician. Now where did that come from? Was the prom elections starting to jade him or something?

Drying his hands with a paper towel, Gary let Stan wallow in the silence for a bit, making him squirm a bit if you will. It was the least he could do for Kyra. Turning towards Stan, his ever-present smile nowhere to be found, he finally said, "I believe you Stan. I don't know why but I do. So what are we going to do about it?"

Stan tilted his head to a side. "Do? About it?" he repeated.

"Well, yeah," Gary shrugged. "Now that we know there's a problem, what are we going to do to fix it? I think you should tell Kyra about it and try and get her help. I don't think trying to hide it will help you any."

"Tell Kyra!" Stan exclaimed. "But-but-but won't she get mad at me and try and break up? I don't want that!"

"I think you underestimate her," Gary said. "She's been in game mode for quite some time and you know how she is when she's like that."

"Boy do I know that," Stan agreed. "But how do you know she won't get game mode on my ass?"

"You should have told her about it when it first started," Gary shrugged. "I think, if you play your cards right, it will be Wendy 2 who gets the brunt of game mode. You need to be more open about your problems Stan. Otherwise, it will be breaking up that will happen between you and Kyra."

At that point, the door suddenly opened and both of the boys clammed up, not wanting anybody who might try and use the information going between the two of them against them. Mostly Stan but still, there was nothing like sexual infidelity that could end a political career.

"There you are Gary! I've been looking for you," Kyle greeted, much to the blond's surprise. Then, noticing his best friend, "Oh, hey there Stan."

"Hey Kyle," Stan said back, shifting his weight from one leg to the other uncomfortably. Though Kyle was his best friend, Kyle was part of Kenny's campaign and thus an opponent this time around. Though Stan didn't often hide things from him, the Wendy 2 matter was going to have to be one of those things.

Turning back to Gary, the redhead asked, "Are you busy right now? I could meet you later."

Looking over at Stan for a second, Gary said, "Now's a good time. What is it you want to talk about?"

"I," then noticing that Stan was still there, Kyle said, "I don't know if Stan wants to listen in on this. You can go if you want, I won't keep you."

That last part had been directed to Stan and Gary watched in amusement as the dark-haired teen looked slightly offended at being left out of something in his best friend's life.

"Of course I want to listen in!" Stan exclaimed. "You're my best friend Kyle! We don't keep secrets from one another."

Okay, that deserved a pointed look from him and Gary obliged. It flew over Stan's head but that may have been because Stan was more focused on Kyle. Kyle stared Stan down before eventually shrugging, as if saying "okay, if you say so" and going back to what he had originally been going to say.

"I went out on a date yesterday," he told the two of them. "And before you say anything, it was with a girl."

"That's great!" Stan congratulated him. "You have fun? Get a little somethin'-somethin'?"

"Stan!" Gary admonished before answering Kyle's news. "That's good, Kyle. Did you have a good time?"

"I guess…" Kyle said, uncertain.

"Well, did you like the girl?" Gary asked.

"She was nice," Kyle admitted. "Pretty."

"Anything else?" Stan asked, reminding Gary of a gossiper. That grin he had on suggested something else, like Stan was trying to ask about something that wasn't rated PG-13.

Oh.

Oh! Um… Wasn't that private information or something? Now he was feeling very uncomfortable here.

"Any what else?" Kyle asked back.

Uh, was Kyle being a bit dense here or something?

"You know," Stan answer though he fidgeted, showing some discomfort here. "Did you…take her back to your place and lay her out by the fire?"

"Oh there was fire alright but not in the way you're thinking," Kyle grumbled, getting it.

"What happened?" Gary asked hesitantly, somewhat squeamish. He could not believe he was talking about…_it_.

"The whole carnival caught on fire after someone fired a gun in the Chamber of Farts," Kyle explained grudgingly. "There was so much methane around… But things weren't going right even before that. The rides kept on breaking down and killing people."

"So you didn't have a good time?" Gary hazard.

"Were there any Deadites?" Stan asked seriously.

"No, there weren't; Damien kept up his end of the deal," Kyle said begrudgingly. "That's the only thing that went right that night."

"Okay, well, how did you like the girl? When things weren't going so bad?" Gary asked.

"Violet was okay," Kyle said. "She was sweet and took everything in stride."

"I'm sensing a 'but' there," Gary said.

"Something just didn't seem right. I don't know," Kyle said. "Maybe I should give it more time. Try again."

"Do you not like her?" Gary asked.

"She's a real nice girl, really," Kyle blabbered on. "She's been patience, nice, and everything. Doesn't seem to mind the weird stuff going on either."

"What are you going to do man?" Stan reinserted himself into the conversation and Gary had to blink at the look that was being shot at him. For some reason, Gary had the impression that he was looking at a little kid that didn't like sharing, in this case a friend. "Are you going to give up?"

"Like hell I'm giving up!" Kyle declared, his eyes alight with fiery passion. "So what if it went wrong the first time? I'll try again! It had to have been a fluke. I'll ask her out again and see what happens!"

"That's good," Gary nodded. "But you know, if it doesn't work out don't let it get you down. Violet might not be the one for you so don't force yourself into anything."

"Thanks Gary," Kyle said, smiling appreciatively at the blond. "Oh and thanks Stan. I'll see you guys around."

Gary watched as the Jew took his leave but the blond found himself looking back at Stan who didn't looked pleased. "Everything all right Stan?"

"Are you stealing my best friend?" Stan asked and something about the teen's voice unsettled Gary.

"Stealing? Of course not!" Gary defended himself. "I wouldn't do something like that."

"Must have been my imagination," Stan said, not taking his eyes off him. "That's good to hear, Gary." Then without warning, Stan grabbed Gary by the front of his jacket and pulled him close so that there was barely a few inches between their faces. "Because if you were trying to steal my best friend away, I'd have to kill you."

Gary swallowed and said nothing.

As quickly as it came, the dark mood vanished. "We'll figure out what to do about the Wendy 2 thing later, right?" Stan asked, back to his gregarious self. "See ya around."

Gary then found himself alone, his mind blank. The only thing that did move around in his head was the word 'wow' as he had trouble contemplating this darker side to Stan. Was it cause for alarm? Hopefully not.

Then another thought occurred to him.

Did Stan wash his hands after using the urinal?

* * *

><p>Marcus had expected the life of a cop to be tough but he had never imagined it to be this tough. He was exhausted, running from place to place as the normally laidback Barbrady had become a fountain of energy that didn't seem to know when to take a break.<p>

At least his superior allowed him to leave the station early…er today than usual. Something about him resting up but Marcus was a bit too drained to hear that part. The sun, which was taking longer and longer to set each day, was only halfway behind the mountains when he showed up at the Cynis home, dragging his feet up to the door.

"You're back early."

Marcus tiredly looked over his shoulder and found Bain looking at him with something that the young cop guessed to be surprise. Then again, it was hard trying to read emotions off the teen. For a moment, Marcus wondered if he was anything like that when he was at that age.

"Aren't you back earlier than this?" Marcus decided to answer with a question.

"Set-up took longer than was anticipated," Bain answered calmly. Then raising an eyebrow in question, "Well? Blocking the door for any reason?"

Blocking the…? Oh! He was in the way. Right. He didn't know where his head was these days, what with chasing down political terrorists and having to _interview_ Josh Myers, who by the way asked him to deliver his latest pen pal letter to "Axman."

But like any young person, he was determined not to back down and let it all get to him. He had willingly gotten involved with this and that was how he was going to end it, by solving it and tying all the loose ends.

"Excuse me," he muttered as he opened the front door and stepped in, Bain following after him. As an afterthought, he passed Josh's letter to Bain who took it without question, apparently knowing what it was without asking.

He heard a loud crunch and he looked to see Sierra biting into a nice, red apple. Then he noticed a couple bags at her feet.

Was she…leaving?

"Hey Marcus," Sierra greeted once she swallowed.

"What's going on?" he asked hesitantly. Had he been neglecting her or something? He had been busy with work! You couldn't blame him for that!

"I have to get back to school; took off too much time," Sierra shrugged, smiling at him sweetly. Maybe too sweetly but that may have been because he was spending too much time in front of Josh's cell. At least she wasn't leaving because of him or anything. That took a load off his mind.

"You're going to come back, right?" he asked, a bit unsure of himself.

"Of course, whenever I get the first chance," Sierra said, batting her eyelashes at him. It drew Marcus closer to her, physically speaking at least as he took a few steps towards her. "But you know, you can't ignore school and whatnot. I think I can make up the stuff I've been missing and I got a test later this week. Gotta take it."

Making more and more sense. Well alright, at least he hadn't done anything wrong or anything.

Sierra took another bite of her apple, smacking her lips with apple juice as she chewed. He wondered if her lips would taste like apple…wait a second.

"You're leaving now?" Marcus guessed. "But it's late!"

"I just wanted to see you before I left," Sierra explained after she swallowed her chunk of apple. "I haven't been seeing you much lately," she pouted.

"Sorry but work has been…hard," he tried to excuse, wincing at how it seemed like he was grasping for any excuse. "It's been real busy but there's nowhere I want to be more than with you Sierra. Can you forgive me?"

Sierra pretended to think for a minute. "How can I not when you have such a cute face?" she teased as she leaned forward and pecked him on the tip of his nose. As a response he felt warmth in his gut and his heart fluttered in adoration. By God he loved this woman!

"I'll try to make it back in time for my baby brother's big night," Sierra continued. "You only have Senior Prom once, you know." She was looking around him with a teasing smirk at something behind him—oh right, Bain was behind him. He had forgotten he was back there.

"That's great of you," he praised as he too looked behind him. Bain was standing there, staring at the two of them intensely but the teen's posture concerned the young man. Bain was rigid, as if his body was trying to decide between fight or flight. And now that Marcus was getting a good look at him, he realized it wasn't him that Bain was staring at.

It was Sierra…no, those different colored eyes weren't focused solely on her. No, there were set on more to her side but there wasn't much there except her hand and the apple that she was holding.

"Come on, you got to lighten up," Sierra taunted her brother and for a second, Marcus heard something in her voice that he had never heard before. He was probably over thinking it but still. "You want this?" she asked, shaking the apple a bit. "Well, you know what they say, one of these a day keeps the doctor away."

She tossed the fruit at her brother with an underhanded pitch, the kind the softball pitchers used. Marcus watched with fascination as the apple traveled through the air and towards Bain but instead of the boy catching it with ease like Marcus thought he would, Bain was on the other side of the room and climbing the stairs, his breathing quickening and his eyes wide like a wild animal's.

It was surprising because before Bain went running for the hills, Marcus could have sworn he saw fear in Bain's eyes for a split second. Was it…fear for an apple? Of an apple? But that was ridiculous, wasn't it?

"Haven't you gotten over that already?" Sierra sneered at Bain. "You're practically an adult!"

Between darting looks at the bitten-into apple that laid harmlessly on the carpeted floor, Bain glared murder at his sister and Marcus found that just standing in the proximity of that glare made him want to take a step or several back. In the back of his head, some voice was telling him that this wasn't any innocent sibling fun or anything.

"In. Your. Sleep," Bain said darkly and then he was scampering up the stairs and disappearing from sight.

Did it say anything about him that Marcus was scared by those three simple words?

"Looks like some things around here don't change," Sierra said, shaking her head.

"You know better than to do that," James Cynis spoke from his seat on the couch.

Hold up.

Marcus did a double take. When did Sierra's father get here?

He paused in his thoughts as a memory took the forefront of his mind.

He was walking in, Sierra dead ahead with an apple in hand; then everything shifted to a side where the Cynis patriarch was sitting comfortably, watching the TV.

The TV had been on the whole time…

How did he do that?

James Cynis was now turned in his seat, his face nothing but a mask of disappointment. Marcus had never really had to deal with fatherly disappointment and now he could see why. A parent being mad at you was one thing but disappointed? Oh boy. And James was nothing but disappointed. Even Sierra looked a bit ashamed.

"You know better," was all that James said and quite frankly that was all that needed to be said.

Wait, what was all that needed to be said? Was there something he was missing here?

"Excuse me but what do you mean?" Marcus asked, shying away from Sierra's father who seemed more intimidating than he had ever seen him before. James Cynis was a large man, bulky one would say, but his size was not something that inspired apprehension. No, it was the look in his eyes and Marcus realized then and there that he had passed that intensity on to his children. Both of them.

"Bain's phobic towards apples," James stated as if that was all that needed to be said.

Phobic? That meant Bain was afraid of apples? Apples? Bain was terrified by that wholesome and delicious fruit that had so many essential nutrients in it? Marcus wanted to laugh at that; what was Bain so afraid of, having good health?

His amusement never left him because James was doing a good job of staring at him blankly, almost expecting such a reaction out of him.

Instead, Marcus tried to be neutral but just seemed to put his own foot in his mouth. "Why is he afraid of apples?" That warranted a wince there. Marcus now had the impression that he was being insensitive.

"Accident, got crushed by, like, a thousand of them or something," Sierra explained and now he got the feeling that Sierra was unfazed by it. Things were moving too fast for him here; when did Bain get in a situation that he was crushed by a bunch of apples?

There was now some fury in James' disappointment though whether that anger was directed at Sierra or…was it himself? Was James angry with himself? Whichever it was, Marcus was still somewhat out of the loop.

"It would be best if you left," James said quietly. "And take _that_ with you," he added, obviously meaning the apple that remained on the floor. Huh, now that Marcus thought about it, that was the first time he had even seen an apple in this house.

"Right, right," Sierra rolled her eyes. Then turning on the charm, she looked at him and asked, "Help me?"

Needless to say, he couldn't resist such a request.

Sometime later, when Sierra was on her way back to Colorado Springs, Marcus found himself in front of Bain's bedroom door. He could admit it, he was worried about the younger boy. Hadn't seen or heard from him since he ran up the stairs earlier. At least someone should check on him and see if he was all right.

He knocked on the door and entered, pulling back almost immediately as something sharp cut through the air and slammed into the dart board that hung just next to the door. With wide eyes, Marcus noted the large knife that was now sticking out of the board and was it him or was that knife gleaming in the light?

"Excuse me, I thought you were somebody else." A hand with spindly fingers wrapped around the blade's handle and pulled it out of the board.

"You need to be more careful with that; you could put someone's eye out," Marcus said, trying to regain his composure.

"You sound like my mother," Bain replied as he took his seat back in front of his desk, the laptop that rested on it shut closed.

Trying not to make the comparison that what he was doing could also be considered motherly, Marcus said, "I wanted to see how you were doing. I heard about your…fear thing."

"Tell anybody else and you won't live past sunset," Bain growled dangerously.

"But the sun's already set," Marcus pointed out.

"Exactly," Bain grinned darkly at him.

Now, Marcus was a cop with a gun and a badge and everything. So why was he suddenly afraid for his own life right now?

"Man up already, you look like I castrated you," Bain snorted as he looked away from him.

It seemed like Bain wasn't pleasant company after having shown weakness to a live audience. It would be best if he tread carefully here.

"Sorry but for a second I thought you would really hurt me," Marcus said, sounding apologetic while trying to defuse the intensity in the room. "Silly, huh?"

"You would be surprised that even the most harmless person is capable of doing the most horrific of acts," Bain said mildly. "You should learn to expect the unexpected. Preconceived notions of which people are capable of doing such and such actions will be your undoing Marcus."

"Worried about me?" Marcus asked, wondering where all this was coming from.

Bain merely gave him a look. Unfortunately, Marcus couldn't read it and so had no idea of what the short teen was trying to convey.

"So…" Marcus trying to resuscitate the conversation but could only thing of the things you should talk last about. "…um, are you okay? I'm sorry about what Sierra did and I really didn't know otherwise I would have done something…and…um…"

"Dig any further and it wouldn't be considered a grave anymore," Bain stated dryly. "I'm fine."

"It's just I've never seen you afraid and…" Marcus continued to babble.

"Enough!" Bain snapped, glaring at him. "Your concern, while once appreciated, is not needed."

"Okay, um," Marcus looked around, trying to figure out anything else he could say. The only thing that could attract his attention happened to be the bookshelf that seemed crammed full of books and miscellaneous knickknacks that he couldn't identify at this time. "You look like you like to read. What kind of books do you read?" Getting a close look at the books' spines, "True crime? You like that genre?"

"It's a hobby," Bain said defensively.

"A shame that some people in this word would do that kind of stuff," Marcus commented, not noticing how Bain stiffened in his seat. "Hey, do you want to know something?"

"If you're going to tell me anyway, why bother asking?" Bain grumbled, eyeing him unfavorably.

"Well, if you don't won't to hear, I won't say anything," Marcus said, trying not to sound hurt.

Bain stared at him for a moment before grumbling begrudgingly. "Fine then. What is it?"

Any hurt feelings he may have had were instantly gone, his brown eyes lighting up. Bain drew back, looking a bit disturbed by his sudden change in attitude but Marcus dismissed the reaction. He was about to share something with this guy that he hadn't told anyone yet.

"I didn't agree to come here with Sierra just to start off as a small time cop and work my way up, you know," Marcus said. "I kinda did think about going over to Denver or someplace like that but I figured that it wouldn't give me the kind of time I needed for…well, it's amazing really."

"What is?" Bain asked though he sounded like he was only saying that to move things along and not because he wanted to.

"Bear with me," Marcus said as he took a seat at the end of Bain's bed but leaned close to the teen who had not taken his eyes off him. "It's like this: back at the academy, they showed us crime scene photos of actually murders, you know, to try and show us what to expect. By that, I mean we might come across a murder when we're in the process of doing something else, like seeing why a car has been parked in the middle of nowhere or answering reports of gunfire and what have you. It was to teach us to expect the unexpected and also see who might have the skills to reach detective.

"Anyway, I remember one of the pictures I couldn't look away from. It was this girl who had been dumped in the river. Naked. Strangled to death. There were stab wounds on her but it was the fact that someone crammed some rocks into her…well, her vagina. I wondered why someone would do that. A few days later, I find out that there was this serial killer up in Washington State called the Green River Killer who did that with his early victims just without the stab wounds. Anyway, I begin noticing things from other photos, bodies who had been stabbed but the stabbing wasn't the cause of death. Each of these deaths had something in common with victims of other serial killers from around the nation."

"Is that so," Bain said, swallowing loudly. "Is, is there a point you're trying to make?"

"I'm getting to that," Marcus said, his excitement obvious. "All these bodies were found in Colorado somewhere and other than that, they had no connection with one another. Like, there was this one girl who was suffocated in an odd luggage suitcase and then buried in the basement of an abandoned house. Another was bludgeoned with a crowbar and strangled and left in the middle of the wilderness."

"Sounds like Ted Bundy," Bain said and right now he was really looking uncomfortable. Probably because this was a grisly topic in the first place.

"Right! I found that out too!" Marcus agreed. "The one that cinched it for me was the murder of this guy, Charles Kincade of the Kincade Talent Agency. Even though he was stabbed as hell, he was cut in half, drained of his blood, and someone gave him a Glasgow smile, kinda like what they did with the Joker in that last Batman movie. Then he was left in plain sight next to the talent agency. I found out that it was close to being similar to that Black Dahlia murder over in the California, that unsolved one from like the twenties or something."

"Where are you going with all this?" Bain asked warily.

"I think there's a serial killer somewhere in Colorado," Marcus said, coming to the point of this. "I'm calling him the Copycat Killer because he's copying the M.O.s of other killers and that's his M.O."

"You're jumping the gun a bit, aren't you," Bain asked. "You're still a beat cop, patrolling the streets. You haven't done a single murder case yet or even been involved with it."

"I think this guy is real and that's from the placement of the bodies, because I don't think they're scattered randomly," Marcus pushed on saying. "South Park, this town, is in the center of it all. I think he might live here or in the county somewhere. He's using this county as his base of operations and I want to find him and nail his ass."

"That's…ambitious," Bain said cautiously. "Any…clues on where to begin?"

"None at all!" Marcus declared. Huh, funny, he sounded like Barbrady for a second there.

Bain glanced out his window. "It's getting late and that episode earlier really tired me out. Not really hungry either," he added hurriedly. "I think I need to get a little bit more rest than usual, to recover and all. You…understand right?"

Marcus saw nothing wrong with that logic. It was understandable. A phobia had to take a lot out of a person.

"Sure thing," he said. "I'll just tell your dad not to expect you. Say, you want me to bring you something?"

"No, no, I'll just…get myself…when I'm feeling better," Bain said hurriedly. "You must be tired yourself and starving so…I'll just say goodnight or something?"

"Awkward there but I get it," Marcus nodded at the teen. "I'll see you later, maybe in the morning?"

"The morning, perhaps," Bain agreed.

With that, Marcus left the teen to recoup.

* * *

><p>Bain waited until the door closed and he heard Marcus' footsteps go down the stairs. He snatched up his phone and dialed a number he had memorized but not bothered to put on speed dial just yet.<p>

Come on, pick up you fucking whore!

His call was answered but he was speaking before the person he was calling could even say "what the hell are you calling me for asshole?"

"Charlotte, we have a problem."

* * *

><p>The report wasn't due until next week but Wendy was an industrious girl and was working on it early. Also, it was a stipulation between her and her parents that if she wanted to stay on Prom Committee, she would keep up with her work.<p>

Being a straight A student wasn't just something you walked into school and did without any kind of effort. It took hard work, determination, and quite a bit intelligence to achieve it. Wendy had all three of those things if you were wondering.

Coming to a stopping point, because frankly she was a little tired, she leaned back in her seat and stretched her arms over her head, trying to straighten out some kinks in her muscles. Mmmm, how long had she been at this? A couple hours, maybe?

Taking her eyes off her computer, she scanned her room, the action done only to give her some new stimulation. She knew what her room looked like but when you stare at one thing for hours at a time, even something you've seen a million times could stimulate your brain.

A cool breeze blew in from her open window, something she did earlier when the room had become a bit stuffy. Instead of, you know, doing the logical thing and turning the thermostat down, which would save more money in the long term, she had let the forces of nature cool her down, a natural substitute to man's invention of central air. That and her father would have gone insane, demanding to know who in _his_ house _dared_ to _adjust his thermostat_! Just turning it up or down one degree somehow alerted him to that, as well as the neighbors for some reason.

Opening the window was the least painful alternative anyway, other than having to present some kind of powerpoint presentation to her father, explaining why the thermostat needed to be turned.

Less painful for all parties.

Sighing, Wendy leaned forward towards her computer and reread the last paragraph she had written, trying to get ideas on what to type next. This thing needed to be flowing, one idea feeding into the next…

"Hello Wendy."

"Not right now Mom," Wendy said idly, her attention more on her essay than anything else.

"I'm…not your mom, Wendy."

Wendy frowned. "Stop pulling my leg Mom. I'm busy with schoolwork!"

"Wendy, listen to my voice. Do I sound like your mother or some kickass superhero?"

"Nice try Mom but that raspy voice thing you're doing to lower it is still lame as when it was first used. Try something new later and impress me," Wendy said irritably, not taking her eyes off her computer screen. Could she get any work done tonight?

"I'm not your mother, Wendy, I am someone who's here to help you."

"If you're here to help me then how you can do that is leave me alone so I can work!" Wendy snapped irritably.

"Look at me Wendy. This is…kinda ridiculous speaking to you like this when you won't even look at me."

"I told you, I'm busy Mom!" Wendy exclaimed, losing her patience.

"I've told you, I'm not your mother Wendy."

"Then who are you if you're not you, Mom?" Wendy asked sarcastically.

"Brace yourself Wendy because I am the one and only _Le Chat Noir_."

"That's nice," Wendy said. Then she paused, something about that name bugging her. Had she heard that before? Was it supposed to mean something to her or—

Wendy's chair slammed to the floor as she jumped out of her seat and spun around towards her open window where a dark clad figure perched on the window sill. What looked like black leather encased a supple body like a second skin and a mask with gaudy cat ears covered the person's head.

Oh Christ.

"So…you're back to finish the job and rape me, huh?" Wendy challenged. "I'll let you know here and now that you won't violate me without a fight!"

"I'm not here to rape you!" Le Chat Noir exclaimed.

"Oh? Then why are you sneaking into people's rooms and raping them, huh?" Wendy snarked, raising her two fists up.

"I've never raped anybody!" Le Chat Noir cried out. "I've just wanted to talk with you because I noticed you've been sad. It's a superhero's job to make sure everyone's happy, you know."

"I don't know where you got your comic book lore but that doesn't sound like what a superhero does," Wendy said. "Don't superheroes fight crime and save the day from some natural disaster?"

"We do that too," Le Chat Noir said.

"So there's really no room for you to break into people's room unless you're here to commit some evil deed," Wendy retorted.

"Mysterion breaks into people's rooms!" Le Chat Noir defended.

"You mean Kenny and he only does that to get his hands onto other girls' panties or set up cameras so he can record girls stripping," Wendy countered. "Heck, he's got a camera in here, watching us."

"He does?" Le Chat Noir asked, blinking dumbly.

"Yeah, it's right over there," Wendy gestured with an arm.

On a shelf, a large bulky camera sat, its lens staring at them. Junk was piled on top and around it to "camouflage" it but even then, a blinking light continued to flash obnoxiously and gave the whole thing away.

"I've been trying to get him to take the damn thing out because that damn light keeps me up," Wendy grumbled, glaring at the device.

"That doesn't sound like anything Mysterion would do," Le Chat Noir snorted. "But I'm not here to argue with you Wendy. Like I said, I'm here to help you."

"Help me?" Wendy repeated skeptically.

"Yes, I just want to find out what's going on with you," Le Chat Noir pressed. "You look sad a lot and it's worrying your friends. You probably don't feel like you can share with them because you think they might think differently about you. If you want, you can tell me and I won't say a word to another soul. Superhero's promise."

"Why should I trust you when you've broken into my room?" Wendy asked suspiciously, eyeing the "superhero." "Why shouldn't I call the cops on you?"

"Because whatever's bothering you has been eating you up," Le Chat Noir said quickly. "You only go out on crusades or raise angry mobs when something is bothering you. Whatever caused you to raise a mob against me is still eating you up from the inside and it will continue to do some. I'm just asking to shoulder some of the burden, Wendy, so that you aren't alone and angry anymore."

Wendy, surprisingly, found that she wasn't saying anything about that. She was quiet because, somehow, something in Le Chat Noir's words rung true within her. Now that she thought about it, she was kinda angry. Whether that was towards Le Chat Noir breaking into her room was highly debatable. Could just be some residual anger towards Bain for taking her position as head of Prom Committee.

"How do I know I can trust you, huh?" she demanded. She wasn't about to spill anything to this lesbian rapist. For all she knew, this was how she got poor Roxi!

"Um, ask yourself this. Who would you trust with it?" Le Chat Noir asked.

Wendy bit her lip in thought. Who would she trust? The list of names was…pretty small. Not even Bebe, who was her best friend and still was, was on that list.

"I won't tell a soul what you tell me Wendy," Le Chat Noir said softly. "A superhero never breaks their promise. Or rapes people. If you talk about it with someone, it might make you feel better."

Wendy glanced at the self-declared "superhero" and continued to mull over those words. Should she risk it? And with a lesbian rapist? She wanted to say get lost but at the same time she really wanted to talk about _it_. And since when was she referring to _it_ as _it_? Should she take a chance and accept what was being offered? Or was she being lured into a trap?

If only she had a musical number written out for a moment like this…

"Alright," she sighed as she bent down and picked her chair up, putting it back upright. "It all started with a guy named Rod Woods…"

* * *

><p>The smell of sweat and leather was a familiar one to Ella and usually it was a smell that went along with a workout. Her gloved fist slammed into the punching bag in a vicious right hook, which was followed by three quick jabs with her left. She practice her legwork by constantly moving around the bag, her arms streaking out like lightning with each punch she threw.<p>

Her muscles were burning from the exertion but that was a sensation she had come to love. She wasn't a champion boxer for nothing you know.

This was like her home away from home, the gym where she could work out all her frustrations as well as just plain ol' exercise and keep up her athletic shape. Only passion could propel someone like Ella into this kind of thing but she was a passionate person by nature.

Sometimes, when things got tough, she would come here and try to work through her problems the only real way she knew how, with her fists bashing into something. For tonight, it was frustration that brought her to Jimbo Kern's gym, a side business the town hunter used to supplement his income when his little TV program wasn't on the air.

Like many business in town, it was only a modest one and there was no get rich quick stuff that could be involved with it. Besides, it only got busy in January and February and only because a bunch of people had made New Years' resolutions to get into better shape. That always teetered off with in the first few weeks until the place became as barren as it was now.

Just the way she liked it. She liked hearing the sounds of her gloved fists smacking against the leather of the bag, forming a rhythm that never let her slow down.

It was a rhythm that allowed her to clear her mind and think about what was irking her most: her non-existent progress with Clyde.

Kinda forgot about that, didn't ya? Well, that could be more her fault than anything; she's been working to help others like Gwendolyn and Violet find the loves of their lives than to focus on her own. Violet at least had gotten a date, bringing herself one step closer to nabbing Kyle and firmly taking him off the market.

Gwendolyn…the least said, the better. Sometimes, Ella had no idea what was going through that girl's head. It was like Stan, the thought of being Stan's one and only, had consumed the girl. Gwendolyn wasn't sharing as much with MUFFDIVER anymore and frankly Ella was beginning to wonder if Gwendolyn was fit to lead.

"Hey Ella! I'm going to step out for a bit!" Jimbo called to her from the other side of the gym, the large man trying to hide a rifle from her behind his back and failing miserably. It was obvious he was going to try and go for some night hunting but he wouldn't go too far. She had forced him to agree to stick around, if not within a hundred feet of the building so that she wouldn't be disqualified from running for Prom Queen. "You think you'll be okay by yourself for a bit?"

"No problem!" she shouted back, wiping some sweat from her forehead, taking in deep breathes through her nose.

"I'll tell no one you were by yourself, alright? See ya in a bit," Jimbo called back as he exited. Ella rolled her eyes but got back into stance, taking a swipe at the bag and then another and another.

Back into the groove she tried to pick up where she had last left off. Now where was she? She had been thinking about Clyde, right? Little chunky, putting a little weight on in the gut area but that meant nothing to her. He was cute, the cutest kid in the whole grade and it didn't matter what any list said.

She wasn't interested in new shoes anyway. All she needed were the kind that got her from one place to another and maybe another pair to work out in. So all that left was Clyde himself. Maybe not the sharpest knife in the drawer either but really, it did not matter.

So with little expectations, why wasn't anybody helping her out? The bag went swinging away from her at the amount of force she put into that last punch. Calm down Ella, you're getting a bit too emotional with this.

She caught the bag and just leaned against it, holding onto it so that she didn't fall flat onto her face.

It seemed like, at this rate, her best shot for getting together with Clyde would have to be winning the crown of Prom Queen and him King. They were supposed to get married after that, right? At least that's what she got from what other people were saying.

She felt a chill up her spine and had the distinctive sense that she wasn't alone. And if she wasn't—

Duck!

No sooner had she done that when something hard hit the bag she had been waling at just a minute ago. Ella twisted her waist and swung a gloved fist straight into the stomach of her attacker, the person stumbling backwards and dropping a crowbar, which clattered against the floor.

Ella was standing straight now and she glared the masked attacker down, her boxing glove-clad fists raised up and ready to pummel someone into mulch.

Eyes glared daggers at her from the openings in the ski mask but at the distance she was from the person, she couldn't tell what color they were. She did have a good idea of who it was; she had not forgotten last night and the fact it was Damien who shoved a ski mask into her hands.

"You have no idea how long I've wanted to do this," she spat out and then took a swing at the masked figure.

The attacker pulled back, stumbling away but keeping his eyes on her, specifically her fists. To Ella's trained eyes, this person was not a fighter, his stance giving him away. God, this was like throwing a helpless deer to a ravenous wolf and the wolf was about to tear this deer to shreds.

But the fucking deer wouldn't let her hit him! Always pulling away, a hand pressing against his gut where she had first hit him. When Ella practically punched a hole through the wall with her fist and her attacker didn't take the extremely small window of opportunity to strike her, Ella realized what he was doing.

He was fucking running away.

No one tried to hit her with a crowbar and tried to run away after the fact without paying for it.

Gritting her teeth, he pulled her hand free not only from the wall but from the glove itself and stalked after her attacker, the guy stumbling over to try and grab the crowbar that remained innocently on the floor.

Not on her watch.

Ella reached him before he could grab his weapon and with her ungloved hand pulled him backwards so she could deliver a right hook with her gloved hand.

Oh that felt good.

"What, can't handle someone who can fight back?" she sneered as she advanced. "Can only handle helpless girls who can't fight back? Pathetic! Especially since you have to come at them from behind!"

The attacker glared at her and Ella drew close enough to get a look at their color. She frowned, noting how the eye color was _not_ red like she had suspected. Damien had red eyes but this attacker didn't; could it be that it wasn't Damien who was taking out the competition? And who around here had those colored eyes? It was like each eye was a different color.

Guess she needed to knock this bastard's lights out and bring this mystery to an end. She was starting to figure out how this person moved and that meant she would be able to predict just what he was going to do. This guy was going down!

She threw a few punches that were supposed to miss, herding the attack to a wall where it would be harder for him to try and dodge. The attacker backed right into a rack of small dumbbells and Ella knew she had him cornered. Time to nail this sucker.

She knew her punch was more controlled but to her surprise, the attacker managed to pull their head backwards just enough for her fist to graze harmlessly by. Before Ella knew it, the attacker was throwing his own punch, a fist that happened to hold a ten pound weight in its grasp, picked up off the rack behind him.

The next thing Ella knew, she was facing the ceiling, blinking up dazedly. There was a thump nearby and the attacker came into view. Ella stared dumbly up at him as she tried to gather her wits.

Before she could make any kind of recover, the attacker had raised his crowbar up and finished the job.

* * *

><p>Author's Note: That's three down, four to go. What's your wager on who's next?<p> 


	19. My Favorite Word is Strategery

Author's Note: Speak of the devil, I mention his name last chapter and I come up with a way to get that cameo in. It's like a running gag in my South Park stories. Anyway, there's a scene with Kenny and Kyle in which I reference a comic by an artist called _kikikun_ on Deviant Art. Just wanted to give credit where credit is due. Other than that, enjoy.

Disclaimer: I do not own South Park or Chuck Norris.

Warning: language, violence?, spoilers for _Fiends_ if you have not read it

My Favorite Word is Strategery

Roxi seemingly stared off into space, not really looking at anything or seeing anything for that matter. And she was still dressed in that ridiculous outfit sans mask.

That was how Mari found her and instead of expressing concern or asking if something was wrong like any normal person, Mari did something Mari-like. "Are you going to get off my bed any time soon? I kinda need to sleep in, you know, that thing you're doing less and less every day?"

Yeah, Mari was not in the mood for bullshit. Or compassion. Or empathy because empathy was for pussies.

Mari wasn't a pussy. She just didn't care one way or the other.

Besides, it was most likely Roxi's big plan blowing up in her face again, like last time. Mari was expecting a call from Wendy at any moment, requesting her presence somewhere to form another mob. Her camera was charged any everything so she was set.

Roxi remained silent, an incredible sight to be sure, but Mari was oblivious to that fact.

"I have got to stop hanging around you," Mari muttered, beginning to wonder why she did so in the first place. Did have to do with Wendy? That sounded about right. Before being befriended by Wendy, because Mari wasn't going to befriend anybody of her own doing, Mari wouldn't have given Roxi the time of day.

"I never thought Wendy would ever cheat," Roxi just blurted out. Out of nowhere, she just said something that explosive. Mari blinked dumbly at the girl then stuck a finger in her ear to make sure that it was clean and she wasn't hearing things.

"Can you repeat that because I swear that you just said Wendy cheated," she said.

"Wendy cheated when she was still with Stan that last time," Roxi elaborated.

Okay so it wasn't some kind of test in class then. She cheated on Stan when they were together the last time. Juicy.

Figuring that she wouldn't be going to bed any time soon, she plopped down on the bed beside Roxi and got comfortable. She had a feeling that this night was about to get longer. "So what happened."

A statement, not a question. Mari already knew that Roxi was about to blabber to her the stuff that she probably swore to Wendy's face not to tell anyone. Roxi was terrible with holding secrets. Couldn't keep one to save her life.

"It was right before she broke up with him, after they had gotten back together again," Roxi explained, her words coming out quicker and quicker like she couldn't hold them anymore. Like Mari called it, juicy. "Stan was hanging out more and more with his new girlfriend, Kyra, and he was throwing up on her a lot and not Wendy and with Stan that's how he shows he likes you and anyway somehow Wendy gets the impression that Stan was cheating on her and that's when she ran into that guy Rod Woods so she goes back with him to his house where he convinces her to let him do her and—"

Mari didn't bother to ask Roxi to slow down. By now she was fluent in Roxi-ese. But man, the way she wasn't slowing down, that had to be one long sentence.

Basically, what she was able to understand, Stan was starting to like someone else, his current girlfriend before she became his girlfriend, and Wendy got jealous. Thinking that Stan was having an affair, she runs into Rod Woods who manages to get her in the sack. Probably was sore for a while after that, Mari would know. Not that that was important information or anything.

"What did you say?" Roxi was frowning at her. Huh, she must have said that last bit out loud.

"I said she must have been sore after having Rod do her," Mari shrugged shamelessly. "Took me a week before I could walk straight."

Roxi's eyes bulged as she stared at her. What? Did she have something on her face?

"You…you and…Rod?" Roxi's voice cracked.

"Picked me up at the club," Mari shrugged. "Alcohol's a hell of a drug." No chuckle here like some dumbass would.

"You and Rod?" Roxi repeated, managing to put some feeling into that one.

"I wasn't the only one," Mari replied, still unrepentant. "He was doing girls left and right. And he was a freak in bed. Always had to tie you down somehow but man, he was like a freakin' engine piston."

"So those marks weren't from you getting your hands stuck in a pipe?" Roxi practically shrieked.

"I can't believe you still believe that's what happened," Mari rolled her eyes. "No, they were from the handcuffs. And anyway, don't get all high and mighty. He did you too."

"When?" Roxi demanded and it looked like she was losing. Jesus Christ, did she think she was cheating on the almighty Mysterion or something? You had to be with someone first before you could cheat on them.

"If you don't remember, you were either drunk or high on roofies, none of which are my problem," Mari said.

"Is that why I had a limp?" Roxi wondered.

"Like I said, like an engine piston," Mari said. If she had been smoking right then, she would have totally blown a puff of smoke right then. Too bad she didn't smoke, right?

Roxi's eyes then bulged even further. "Oh God, no wonder I was bowlegged!"

Heh heh heh, this was a freakin' riot. But it was getting off topic, wasn't it? Roxi was so easy to lead astray, it was almost pathetic.

"So Wendy cheats on Stan with Rod, is that it?" Mari asked.

"I can't believe I did it with that guy!" Roxi wailed, apparently not as easy to lead off topic as previously thought.

"You and half the school," Mari stated, again rolling her eyes. "Bunch of girls had those impressions from the cuffs on their wrists. So anyway, Wendy with Rod behind Stan's back. Is that it?"

"Wendy with Rod behind Stan?" Roxi repeated, blinking stupidly (because only Mari can blink dumbly). Realization dawned on her and she was off again. "That's right, Wendy cheated on Stan with Rod but then she finds out that Stan hadn't really cheated on her and she felt just horrible but then Rod told her to break up with him for some reason and that if she didn't he'd tell the whole school so that she would have to break up with him so she breaks up with him but then finds out that Rod died the night before—"

Okay, time to translate again. So Stan wasn't cheating on her so Wendy felt real bad because she did cheat on him. Then Rod refuses to leave the picture and blackmails her into breaking up with Stan anyway. Odd thing for a guy to do. Mari remembered the break up, or at least what she heard people talking about it. Wendy faking it with Stan, what a blow to a guy's ego, heh heh. So…right after she breaks up with Stan she finds out that Rod died. If she had known about that before the break up then she wouldn't have broken up with Stan again. Well, there were only four words to describe Wendy.

Sucks to be her.

Wendy probably jumped the gun, wanting to get it all over with before waiting for Rod to show up, not knowing that he was already dead. They were still trying to gather more evidence to charge Cartman, weren't they? What he was doing dressed as Bruce Vilanch in a rat costume was beyond her logic. But wait, hadn't she herself been in the area where Rod died? Yeah, she remembered Roxi talking about Mysterion fighting against a Rod lookalike. A fourth person had also been there but it slipped her mind who Roxi had said it was.

It got lost in translation when all Roxi did was bitch about her perfect chance to get her Spiderman kiss getting ruined.

"I never thought that Wendy would ever do something like that," Roxi summed up her feelings when she finally reached a point where there was nothing else left for her to say.

"What? Cheat?" Mari found herself asking. "Well, if Stan wasn't doing it for her when he was fucking her, it's no surprise she went out and found someone who could."

"You're making light of this; Wendy is fucking depressed by it," Roxi frowned at her. "She feels so guilty that she would do a thing like that to Stan. She still likes him, you know."

"Yeah and because she feels guilty, she'll never get back with him," Mari shrugged, merciless in her response. "And Stan has already moved on while remaining in ignorance. Does Wendy think she'll get him to throw up on her if she admits infidelity? He'd never look at her again."

"Mari, what are we going to do!" Roxi demanded as she took her hands into her own. "Wendy feels so bad! How can we help her?"

"We? Who's we?" Mari retorted. "I ain't doing shit."

"Mari! She's our friend!" Roxi cried out.

Mari would not admit that that was a true statement mainly because it came out of Roxi's mouth. She would never admit that the girl had something that was correct in its assumption. Too much effort to do more than anything.

"Wendy fucked up, she's got to live with it," Mari stated, a look on her face that seemed to ask "oh God, why me?" "I never thought she'd have the balls to cheat on someone though. Way to go."

"You're impressed?" Roxi stared at her, flabbergasted. A nice word there, flabbergasted. "This is why you can't get a boyfriend!"

"No, the reason I _don't_ have a boyfriend is because A: it's too much work and B: I don't have the energy to waste on romantic crap."

"Right," and it was Roxi's turn to roll her eyes, clearly not believing her. "Why screw Rod then?"

"I was horny," Mari said. Shameless, thy name was Mari Evans.

"I don't even know who you are anymore!" Roxi wailed.

"Then stop hanging out with me," Mari muttered even though she was ignored in favor of hysteria. "It's not like you didn't screw Rod either."

And that got Roxi's attention. Again. "Oh God, I did! I'm sorry for being unfaithful Mysterion!"

"You aren't even his girlfriend so how are you being unfaithful?" Mari grumbled.

Yep, this was going to be a long night.

* * *

><p>Bain was pissed and Charlie would have to be blind, deaf, and dumb to not know that. She could practically feel the waves of hate wafting off him but she was relatively unaffected, even if she was in close quarters with him.<p>

He had felt that his house was compromised so had come over in his car where he stubbornly remained in the driver's seat, glaring out of the windshield. She supposed that if it was her who was a raging serial killer and had just been found out by someone, she would be pissed too.

"So what are you going to do?" she asked, breaking the silence that existed between them. "Are you going to kill him? He did find out about you."

"He doesn't know it's me who's responsible," Bain said quickly while at the same time forcing the words out through his clenched teeth.

"That's never stopped you before," Charlie shrugged.

"You know and I have yet to kill you," Bain pointed out.

"You couldn't kill me even if you tried and I had my hands and feet tied," Charlie snorted. Frowning, she added, "Wasn't there someone else? I'm thinking pink for some reason."

"Beats the hell out of me," Bain growled.

"So you're going to let him live?" Charlie asked when it looked like Bain was not going to say anything.

"He's my sister's tool, I mean boyfriend," Bain said, rolling his eyes sarcastically. "I have a connection to him. If he dies due to unnatural causes, I may not be the first investigated but I will be one of the first. It's too big of a risk."

"You killed Rod and he was just hitting on me," Charlie pointed out.

"The Devin Brasch investigation took the heat away," Bain said.

"That's still 'unsolved,' right? And so is he," Charlie mentioned.

"First forty-eight hours is the most urgent part of an investigation; it's when odds of collecting the most important pieces of evidence and catching the culprit are at its highest," Bain explained, speaking like he was just throwing out a definition from a dictionary.

"Naturally, you take advantage of that," Charlie snorted, looking out of the passenger side window. "The question remains, what are you going to do?"

"Unless you want to take matters into your own hands and follow my example, I have no ideas," Bain snarled.

Charlie was grateful that his anger wasn't directed towards her for once. She didn't say anything in reply to that because she wasn't going to stoop down to that level. Of course, that's just the "correct" response. Her real response was that she didn't take pleasure in killing other people. Turning the tables on them, making them suffer, those were different things altogether.

"I knew this was going to happen," Bain grumbled. "The moment that bitch brought him here I was going to be compromised."

"You know, you could just not kill anyone," Charlie decided to throw out there. "If you don't kill anyone, then this guy can't follow the trail back to you. I mean, who is he? He can't be some big time FBI guy or anything, is he?"

"Recently graduated," Bain admitted and you could just _hear_ the reluctance and embarrassment in that admission. "Just a fucking beat cop with a lot of time on his hands."

"Are you just that transparent or sloppy?" Charlie found she had to ask. That and rub some salts into the wound, add insult to injury, and anything else along those lines.

She tilted her head back as she felt the familiar sensation of Winslow pressing against her neck. Without losing her cool, she caught his wrist and pulled Winslow away from her, slightly twisting Bain's wrist. He only showed a little discomfort which could mean he had developed a high tolerance for pain by now or she was going easy on him. Real easy, if you needed to know.

"You can stop threatening my life, your threats are pretty empty," she told him dryly.

Bain growled and rudely pulled his hand out of her grasp, tucking Winslow out of sight. Now that she knew he had his favorite blade on him, she would be better prepared for any reemergence of that knife.

Was it a good thing that she knew how that weapon felt against her neck?

"One of these days, Charlotte, they may prove not to be empty," Bain growled.

"They're as empty as a blonde's head," Charlie snorted. "You can hear the wind tunnel when air blows through them."

"Make your jests while you can," Bain spat. "One of these days you won't be able to make them to my face. Last I recall, Colorado still has the death penalty."

Charlie winced. They had come into a topic that she didn't like to think of. Every once in a while when Bain was being vicious or introspective, he'd bring up the possibility that he might end up in prison. She knew that if anyone caught onto him that they'd pump so much poison into him that it would come out of his ears and eyes.

It wasn't a prospect she liked to consider. It was one she wanted to avoid for as long as possible, if not forever.

"So why don't you do away with him?" Charlie pressed. "What's the real reason Bain? You talk about risk but you're a smart son of a bitch. I think you could talk your way out of suspicion if you tried. What's really stopping you?"

Bain's hands gripped the steering wheel and she could see his knuckles turning white from the pressure he was applying. "I honestly don't know," he gritted out.

A thought occurred to her. It was a radical one and considering that this was Bain…

"You wouldn't happen to like him?" she suggested, knowing that no matter how carefully she worded it, it would still come out sounding wrong.

Bain liking someone. It would have to be the end of the world.

Bain threw a look at her but it was one she could not read. For a second it looked outraged that she would even suggest him of all people liking someone else and at another second it looked like she may have hit the nail on the hammer. There were other various emotions and what not but those two were the ones that stuck out the most.

Huh. Bain liking someone other than himself. With the exception of her, he didn't extend that exclusive privilege to anybody. And this was to a cop, a cop who had begun sniffing him out to boot.

Damn, he was so fucked up, more so than she had ever thought before.

* * *

><p>"Alright, that's one hundred and eight houses we've visited so far. Onto the one hundred and twenty-ninth," Cartman announced. Beside him, Butters struggled with all the fliers, bumper stickers, and buttons he had been forced to carry as the designated pack mule. Jake followed behind, sweating slightly from all the walking and unable to take any part of his suit off because then Cartman would throw a fit.<p>

Brianna wasn't with them because she had deemed the whole thing stupid and wanted no part in it.

"Are-are you really, gasp, sure we need to visit all these houses?" Butters panted.

"Of course Butters! We have to get the word out!" Cartman declared.

"But most of these houses don't have kids who come to our school!" Butters protested.

"Butters, this is a serious political campaign," Cartman lectured. "How else am I going to get voters to vote for me? Going door to door, while a pain in the ass, is the best way to get your message out. If your voters speak with you face to face, they're more likely to vote for you when they get into the voting booth. Don't you know anything?"

"Well, if you say so Eric," Butters sighed. "But can't we take a break? My arms are tired from carrying all this stuff."

"Butters, if you don't help me out, I'm afraid I'll have to make Jake shoot you so shut up and do what I tell you," Cartman ordered as he approached the next house. Taking a look at it, he tilted his head to a side in confusion.

It looked like an ordinary house but there wasn't a front door on it. There was a doorbell though, which was the strangest thing. That and the odd mountain of broken ninja bodies out on the front lawn that came complete with a sign that said "Brokeback Mountain."

Still, there had to be a registered voter here and Cartman was determined to get this vote.

He rang the doorbell.

The trio of boys could hear the pleasant sound as it rang through the house and they waited for some kind of response.

Ten microseconds later, the portion of the wall where the door should have been exploded, sending chucks of brick and mortar out towards the boys who ducked their heads. Amazingly, none of them were hit by the debris.

"Okay," Cartman said slowly, trying to rationalize what had just happened. Figuring he could do that later, he turned towards the man that now stood in the recently made hole in the wall.

"Hello," Cartman greeted the tall, cowboy boot wearing man who stared down at him from behind one of the most chiseled beards he had ever seen. "My name is Eric Cartman and I am running for public office. I'm going from door to door, talking to voters like yourself who will have the opportunity to make their voices heard sometime soon."

Butters held out a flier to the man, giving his most bright smile. His legs were shaking and his knees were knocking against each other in fright.

"Prom King is a very important office, sir," Cartman continued when the man said nothing. "Not just anybody can assume that position. They need the right qualities, sir, and you don't want some liberal douche put in, do you? Um, I didn't quite get your name mister…?"

"Chuck Norris."

Butters squeaked, almost dropping the stuff he was holding. Jake put his hand into his suit but made no other move, wondering if he stood a chance against this fine piece of manliness wearing a cowboy hat and flannel shirt.

Cartman, though, didn't seem to recognize the potential danger he was in.

"Mr. Chuck Norris, you seem like a patriotic American and a reasonable voter," Cartman continued. "Every one of my opponents doesn't have what it takes to take on the pressures of this position. I do. I mean, what can you expect from a tree-hugging pussy, a poor man looking for free hand outs, a dumbass, the most boring guy on the planet, and a guy claiming to be the Antichrist? They're jokes, Mr. Chuck Norris. You seem like a God-fearing—"

The next thing Cartman knew, air was buffeting him, he was in somebody's living room, now he was in their backyard, going through the fence, a couple trees, and finally coming to a rest on top of some melting snow. Wow, he never knew the sky could be so blue…

Butters and Jake stared at where Cartman now laid then slowly turned back to the man who called himself Chuck Norris whose leg was stuck out like he had just roundhouse kicked someone.

Chuck Norris was not afraid of any God.

Butters dropped all of Cartman's advertisements and junk and began running for his life, screaming for high heaven. Whether he wet his pants or not was up for debate.

Jake gripped whatever he was holding in his suit and just as he began to pull it out, a shiny handle reflecting the light of the sun off it, he stopped short. Looking at Chuck Norris then to his hand, Jake made a lightning quick decision.

"Fuck this shit."

And off he went.

* * *

><p>Kenny took in a deep breath, more relaxed than he had been in the past couple of weeks.<p>

Most of that relaxation came from laying on top of Kyle's bed, not just some mattress with a blanket on it but an actual bed. The fact that Kyle wouldn't shoo him off it like some people in town would only made this better.

All the campaigning then running around rooftops as his alter ego all the while keeping up appearances as the most sexually active dude in school really took a lot out of him. It was hard work being the school pervert and contrary to popular belief, he didn't think of sex every…

…heh heh heh, boobs…

…every ten seconds. Doing something like that got boring after a while and if you wanted to keep your fantasies fresh, you had to make them raunchier and raunchier. Eventually, you'd just end up fantasizing about every single thing that could be fantasized about and then you were stuck with nothing but vanilla.

Being perverted was so hard at times.

"Christ, web sites," Kyle grumbled from his seat in front of his computer. Recently, some of the super PACs had set up web sites for each of the prom candidates and right now Kyle was going through them all, hoping to find some kind of edge.

Kenny smirked at the redhead and let a hand slip down to the floor, picking up a discarded magazine that was half-hidden under the bed. Might as well do some reading and try to look smart. No surprise it was a science mag but really, what else could the blond do during the daylight hours? His favorite activities all took place at night.

He skimmed through a few articles, none capturing his attention, and had to take a break before his head began hurting. How did Kyle understand all those words much less know what they were? His friend had too much time on his hands. He needed to get out more.

His lazy blue eyes drifted over to a card that rested on Kyle's desk, face down. He had asked about it earlier and the conversation had gone something like this:

"_What's this?" he asked as he picked up the object of his curiosity. Looked a bit girly to him._

"_That? That's Damien's Valentine's Day card. Told me he made it himself," Kyle said idly, his eyes not leaving the computer monitor._

"_Valentine's? The day where guys empty out half their bank accounts to buy flowers and chocolate in an attempt to get in girls' pants?" Kenny asked dully._

"_Same," Kyle confirmed, also in that same dull tone._

_Not wanting to comment further on a guy giving another guy such a girly thing, Kenny opened the thing up and read what was inside._

You're Mine

_Kenny frowned._

"_Shouldn't this say "Be Mine?" with a question mark?" he asked._

"_No," Kyle answered with no real interest._

"_Oh," Kenny grunted as he fiddled with the card. After a moment, it hit him. "Oh. Oooohhhhhh."_

"_Took me that long to figure it out to," Kyle said unexpectedly. "Threw me over his shoulder and you can guess what happened next."_

"_Ballsy little bastard," Kenny muttered though his meaning was not in a good way._

And that was basically making a long story short.

Now where had he heard that phrase used before? For some reason, he believed some kind of trauma was involved.

Looking away from the twisted card, Kenny glanced up at Kyle who had not looked away from the computer, the Jewish daywalker's brow creased as he explored websites as a quick pace. How could he sit there and do that for hours on end? Once upon a time, Kenny could do that but as he got older he had become more and more active.

And an active person being forced to lay here and nothing to do wasn't the best of combination. Funny, just a moment ago he felt as if he needed to relax more and now here he was with an urge to do something.

Doing research, as Kyle called it, was not his idea of doing something. But this was a serious time and he needed to be serious.

He opened the magazine back up again and tried to absorb some of the information that Kyle could do effortlessly. God, this looked so complicated. Why would Kyle even want to read this shit in the first place?

He turned a page, scanned what was there then began to turn the page again. Stopping in mid turn, he turned back to the pages he had just left and read them again, this time a bit more thoroughly. Now this he could understand.

"Hey Kyle!" he called out. Not giving his friend a chance to say thing, he said, "Take a look at this."

Kyle looked up at him, annoyed but did as he was told. Kenny took great pleasure in watching those green eyes widen. "You have got to be shitting me," he said.

"I told you it was scientific!" Kenny chortled.

"But…why? Why would they…?" Kyle was grasping at words now and Kenny was using every shred of his self-control not to burst out laughing.

"Why would they what?" he wheedled, letting loose a few snickers.

"Why would they spend millions of dollars to…to develop a boob scale!" Kyle exclaimed, his eye twitching. "Sizes A through double D and decimal points? That's your system Kenny!"

"The most important scale since TMI," Kenny crowed. "It's a revolution Kyle."

"Keep it in your pants," Kyle muttered as he threw the magazine back at Kenny, returning to his computer.

"I would but there's no pants big enough for it," Kenny remarked. Kyle's face reddened as he got the innuendo.

Kenny chuckled at his friend's frustration but let him off the hook anyway. He was going to start using that scale more and more because, hey, it was math now bitch. Science even. Was it odd that only men and insecure women would use it?

A few minutes later, it was Kyle who was breaking the silence. "Another one's dropping out."

Kenny snapped his head over to the Jew. "Who?" he demanded.

"Ella Robinson," Kyle answered. "She got attacked last night. You know what that means. Who the hell is doing this?"

Kenny looked away from Kyle up towards the ceiling now. Yes, who would do this? Looks like he needed to take this more seriously than he had. How whoever was doing this was eluding him and getting the girls alone puzzled him, he was determined to put an end to this.

Before more people got hurt. His campaign would have to go on the back burner until this was resolved. He couldn't believe he hadn't been doing more about it, especially since he was the one to find Bebe, the first victim.

There were six more candidates, one of whom was in this very room.

A plan was starting to form in his head but before he did anything, he was going to have to pay a certain someone a visit.

* * *

><p>Bonnie wondered why she would be invited out by Brittany of all people to the Red Robin but she didn't give it much thought after Brittany insisted on paying.<p>

Even though, like all girls, she was watching her figure it was free food. Who in their right mind would refuse something like that? Not her, thank you very much.

"I'm glad you agreed to come here," Brittany said. Was it her or had the other girl not taken her eyes off her this entire time? "I think it's time we have a talk. A serious talk."

Bonnie made an odd, incomprehensible noise but then that's what you got when you had a mouth full of something that might have once resembled meat. Looks like her lessons in eating etiquette had left her to fend for herself. Chew and swallow and don't speak with your mouth open. How hard was it to remember that?

"Yeah? What is it you want to talk about?" she asked after swallowing then drinking something to clean it out some. Best to try and not show any more chewed up food than she already had. It was not only rude but disgusting.

"We've been butting head for a long time, right?" Brittany asked, hands folded in front of her. "It's put a lot of conflict into LESBIAN and we're nowhere near closer to resolving our issues than when they first came up."

Yeah, tell her something she didn't know. Sorry, she wasn't usually like that. It's just that Brittany had been rubbing her the wrong way for so long that she couldn't help but view whatever she said negatively. And besides, Kenny was going to choose her anyway. It was a matter of time when she won the prom election. Then they would get married and live happily ever after…oh she couldn't wait!

Oh, um, kinda got off track there for a second. Then again, anything involving Kenny would steal her attention away like a sponge with water. At least, she hoped that analogy was the right one to use in such a situation.

"LESBIAN needs to start focusing all its resources towards a single person; you agree with that, right?" Brittany began, looking at her pointedly.

"Uh huh," she nodded, agreeing with that sentiment.

"There's just two MUFFDIVERs and two independents left," Brittany continued. "It was sad to see Rory have to leave, I mean, the poor thing's devastated. But nevertheless we need to focus more on what's good for LESBIAN, specifically who should be its frontrunner. We need a united base for a LESBIAN to get the crown. We split the vote, we decrease the chances of winning."

Bonnie so totally agreed with that. Brittany was finally saying things that she could get behind. If Brittany decided to quit, admit that she was wrong that Kenny belonged to her, find someone new to crush on, then she believed that they could be the best of friends.

"Oh this is awkward," Brittany appeared uncomfortable as she looked away from her. "How can I say this?"

"Take all the time you need," Bonnie told her graciously. She was a real good person, you know. She could be an even better person if you weren't trying to steal her man away. She smiled, hoping to put the other girl at ease.

"No, no, I don't want to drag this on any longer than it needs to be," Brittany said, sighing after she spoke. Then Brittany looked her dead in the eye and Bonnie knew that this was it. "Bonnie, it's been a pleasure but I'm kicking you out of LESBIAN. Here's a Rolex watch and a can of peanuts. We at LESBIAN feel that I'm the best candidate to win and since you haven't made any effort to work with us, we feel that it would be best to part ways so we can do what's best for the group."

The smile on Bonnie's face remain frozen and slowly but gradually, her left eye began to tic.

"What?"

"I know, this must be hard for you, especially since you've been here since the beginning," Brittany tried to soothe her.

"Are you kicking me out?" Bonnie's voice cracked as it all began to dawn on her.

"In a manner of speaking…" Brittany said, doing her best not to wince. "We feel it best that we make a clean break here so that we can go our own ways with the smallest amount of pain. To make it easier on all of us."

"Did the others agree to this?" Bonnie demanded, outright glaring at the other girl.

"I don't see what they have to do with anything," Brittany coughed, looking away. "This is about you and me—"

"But you said that you and the others felt this way," Bonnie said. "You used 'we' so that means you had to have talked it over with them. But you didn't, did you? This is just you acting on your own."

"I'm acting in the best interest of the group, it's the same thing," Brittany said defensively.

"More like your interest," Bonnie sneered. "I'm not giving up Kenny, you know that."

"I've already won this," Brittany snorted. "It was me he took out on a date, remember?"

"Yeah, and he never called you back for another," Bonnie shot back. "Doesn't that make you think that he's not that into you?" Ooh, even she could admit that was a low blow. While she didn't know why Kenny hadn't called her up after the alleged "date," the fact that he hadn't gave her all the more hope that she could win him.

It still hadn't occurred to her the reason for Kenny not calling might have been his fault and nothing against Brittany. Kenny had no faults unless you called being extra-friendly being one.

He could be friendly but Bonnie preferred he was friendlier towards her more than others.

"You're so jealous, they might as well make a fragrance out of it," Brittany rolled her eyes. "Take the watch and damn peanuts already. You're making a scene."

"You take them! Take them and shoved them up your, well, you know!" Bonnie shot back, stumbling slightly over those last few words. "You're not kicking me out like we did with Wendy 2, Brittany. If I have to declare war on you, so be it."

"So this is how it's going to go, eh?" Brittany said as she stood up from her seat, Bonnie copying the action. "Prepared to be annihilated, bitch."

"Same to you, ho," Bonnie spat back, somewhat proud she got that last word out without stumbling. She marched away from their booth and heading towards the exit, ensuring that Brittany would indeed be stuck with the bill.

As soon as she had left the Red Robin, she was taking out her phone and struggling to dial a number she was having trouble recalling. Ultimately, she got it right because the person she was trying to call eventually picked up.

"DJ, I need your help cutting Brittany loose," she said into the phone.

"_Why the hell should I help you? Besides, I already got what I need."_

Eh? She was supposed to do something? And what was it that DJ needed? Oh right, that stuff.

Ah. She really had nothing much to offer, did she?

"_I've helped you losers more than I needed to with little to show for it,"_ DJ told her before she could say anything. _"I have no use for you and there's nothing you have that you can offer me that I might want. You're on your own this time."_

Dial tone.

Bonnie looked at her IPhone incredulously. Was she hung up on? Darn, she knew she had been a bit neglectful with the other girl but she had been busy! It wasn't easy to remember things when you were running for Prom Queen, you know.

Now what was she going to do?

"I hear you're in trouble."

Bonnie squeaked, practically jumping six feet in the air in surprise. Spinning around, she found herself coming face to face with a guy in a business suit and slicked back hair.

"Who are you?" she squeaked, wincing at how high pitched her voice sounded.

"The name's Wolf Black and do I have an offer for you," the guy smiled predatorily at her.

* * *

><p>Stan shifted nervously in his seat, watching Kyra's every move. Gary was in the next room over but he was only there for emotional support as he called it. So it left him alone with Kyra who had this blank look on her face.<p>

Did it hurt to mention that he had bowed down to Gary's instructions and told Kyra what was going on with Wendy 2?

Yeah, that blank look was becoming scarier and scarier by the second. Was it normal for him to feel apprehension about this? Usually, when Kyra got this look, she was entering a multiplayer free-for-all where she was about to Pwn a dozen n00bs in less than a minute.

Any moment now, the slaughter fest was about to begin and Stan had a feeling that he wouldn't be around to see how it all turned out.

He wanted to comfort her, really. But he was the one at fault here, wasn't he? What would she be more mad about? The fact Wendy 2 was flirting with him behind her back or that Stan had waited so long to tell her about it? At this point, it was a tossup but there could be some other thing she might be more pissed with than the one he had just mentioned.

If he was gonna die, he wished that it would come sooner than stall like this. At least then it would be over with.

A nearby clock was ticking, the second hand marking the passing of each second as it completed each lap around the clock's face. Each tick sounded as loud as his heart, the organ beating in his chest so loudly that he was counting each individual beat.

Seventy beats a minute, man. That was healthy, right?

"Why did you keep this from me?" Kyra asked quietly. Even with how loud that damn clock was ticking, he was able to hear her and the spotlight was firmly back on him.

"I was ashamed, I guess," Stan fidgeted. "I thought that she wasn't going to be so aggressive and that I could avoid her and…and I should have told you about it as soon as it started."

"You're right, you should've," Kyra agreed.

Stan winced; Kyra wasn't going to be giving him much room to move around in here. Not like he deserved it.

"So…where do we go from here?" Stan asked, looking down at the table that separated the two of them. He didn't have the heart to look at the girl.

"That is the best thing you've said all day," Kyra said. "What do _you_ think we should do Stan?"

"I don't know," Stan admitted. "I know what I don't want to do but I don't know what I should do."

"And what do you not want to do?" Kyra asked. Yes, she was firmly in game mood now. Why did he feel like such a n00b?

"I know I don't want to break up with you," Stan said. "I mean, I tried forever to get you to be my girlfriend—"

"It was about three months," Kyra interrupted.

"Three months is forever," Stan whined his point. "It's been a month and a half since then…I don't want to lose this, whatever it is we have."

"You think I'm just going to give up because some girl kisses you?" Kyra raised an eyebrow at him.

"Wendy, the first one, did for less," Stan said.

Kyra blew out a stream of air. "I'm not your old girlfriend, Stan. I'm not always looking for something wrong and then using it as an excuse to break up with you, even though you making out with another girl isn't something small."

Stan whimpered at those last words but said nothing about them. He didn't think it would be possible to argue over them and stand a chance of changing her mind about them. Girls were always scary when they were angry.

"No, we're still together…but you're going to owe me big time," Kyra continued and Stand nodded quickly in agreement. Why did he have a feeling that this was about to get dark? "Your old girlfriend, Wendy 2, on the other hand, something needs to be done about her, don't you think?"

Everything she was saying sounded like she was deliberately choosing each and every word she was saying yet they were flowing out like she was speaking normally. It was a very scary thing.

"So what do you want to do?" Stan asked hesitantly.

"Well, she wanted to break us up right, take you away from me and all," Kyra shrugged. "To be honest, I don't really see you as mine since that's kinda possessive and you possess things and not people, right? Well, I think, using that kind of logic, we take away something from her instead. Something important."

"Okay, what do we take?" Stan asked.

"We destroy any and all chance of her being elected," Kyra said smoothly. "People aren't really forgiving when you're involved in a sex scandal."

"But won't that hurt me too?" Stan asked.

"It could," Kyra shrugged, "or we can go with plan B."

"Plan B?" Stan found himself asking another question.

"Yeah. I'd rather go with plan A, playing politics, but I'm leaning more towards plan B," Kyra said.

"What about doing both?" Stan asked. "I don't know what plan B…"

"Best you don't know," Kyra said. "They call it plausible deniability in politics."

"It's bad, isn't it?"

"For Wendy 2."

"But why can't I know?"

"Because you don't want to know."

"And why would I not want to know?"

"Because it's close to making a deal with the devil."

"Are you talking about Damien?"

"No and I had no intention of talking with him. You're running against him, remember?"

"Oh yeah. But if that's not the devil you're talking about, then who is it?"

Kyra didn't answer right away. Instead she leaned back in her chair and shouted, "Hey Gary! Do you still have that number?"

"Which number are you talking about?" Gary called back.

"His number," Kyra yelled in reply. "The one you haven't used yet."

"Give me a second," came Gary's response. "Got a bunch of them."

Looking to Stan, "Just give me a second."

Stan watched as Kyra got out of her seat and headed to the next room. What was she up to, he wondered.

* * *

><p>Bain jerked in surprise as the unfamiliar tone of his cell phone jingled.<p>

"That's what your phone sounds like?" Charlie asked rhetorically. "Sounds ordinary."

"Fuck off," Bain grumbled as he answered the seldom used cellular device. "What do you want?"

Charlie watched, slightly fascinated as Bain's brow furrowed. "Who is this?" he barked into the phone. A pause. "Oh." Another pause. "You want me to do what?" Again, another pause. "Why?" Pause. "And what do I get out of it?" Pause. "That's not a lot of reparation for services rendered. Let me think about it." Pause. "No, I'll call you." End of call.

"So who was that?" Charlie asked.

Instead of answering that question, Bain's reply came in the form of a question. "Who the fuck is Wendy 2?"


	20. Scandal!

Author's Note: If you still recall the Republican nomination process that was going on back in 2011, you should recognize where some of the inspiration comes from. I'll give you a hint, it was a scandal involving a potential, not Mitt Romney frontrunner. Anyway, I've slowing down with this fic, don't let the speed of updates fool you. There's still so much to do, wrap up, and then the climax, prom even! Hopefully it won't be any longer than _Fiends_ was and that was thirty chapters there. Enjoy.

Disclaimer: I do not own South Park.

Warning: language, sexual content

Scandal!

"_Good morning South Park. I'm Casey Miller and these are the morning announcements."_

With a voice like audible chocolate, it was no wonder every student in school paid attention to the morning announcements if only to just hear that voice. Girls fell in love with it at the very first word and once the last word was spoken, they immediately fell out of love. Guys would stop with whatever they were doing if only to admit that that was one delicious sounding voice.

Not even Gwendolyn Long was immune from it as she shared a dreamy expression on her face with the rest of the girls in class as that Casey Miller told them all about what was going on in the school, like the drama club needed to get some permission slips signed and turned in by the end of the week and Honors Society had a meeting after school at four.

Bits of information that people really didn't care to hear but made all the more important by that sweet, sweet voice.

"_Prom candidate Ella Robinson becomes the third to drop out of the Prom Queen elections due to violations of prom election rules. Sorry, Ella, it was a good run and it's sad to see you go."_

Gwendolyn blinked at that announcement, leaving the dreamy stupor she was usually put in when the announcements were made. Ella was leaving the race? That was great; it shrank the field of another nominee as well as freed up some MUFFDIVER support. Violet was the only other one competing for the same voters as she was but from the uncertainty of the girl, Gwendolyn knew it was a matter of time before Violet too dropped out and of her own choosing.

She hadn't expected today to be so good. It had started out dull like every other day but this bit of good news had really livened things up. She was one step closer to winning the crown and getting Stan all to herself for the rest of their lives.

What could possibly go wrong now?

"_Breaking news students, I have just received a report on sexual misconduct performed by Prom Queen candidate Gwendolyn Long, the MUFFDIVER party frontrunner."_

Gwendolyn jerked her head up towards the ceiling intercom, her jaw slack for only a second.

"What?" she said out loud.

"_A student who prefers to remain anonymous claims that candidate Long has been sexually harassing him. We will bring you more information as it comes out. Attention freshmen, you are to go the gymnasium second period for an important assembly."_

Gwendolyn could feel the looks from the other students now and she looked straight ahead, trying to do her best to ignore the attention. Who…where did anyone get the idea that she was sexually harassing anyone? This was insane! Someone was sabotaging her campaign with false accusations! But who?

It had to be a LESBIAN. Violet didn't have it in her to do anything this bold. It had to be Brittany Love or Bonnie Snyder. Of that, she had no doubt. Those two had been making it hard for her to get Stan for her own since the beginning and now they were at it again. Well, if they were going to play dirty, she would show them that she could fight fire with fire.

She ignored the following announcements, including the _"That's it for the morning announcements; I'm Casey Miller,"_ in favor of plotting how she was going to get back at those two. She was going to show this whole school why you didn't fuck with her. Time to use some of her own cash and with the amount she had at her fingertips, she was about to rain down unholy fire and brimstone on those bitches.

The only question that remained was how she was going to do that?

* * *

><p>From his seat, Stan swallowed as he shifted uncomfortably. The moment Casey had done his part, Stan knew that there was no going back now.<p>

"It begins," he muttered quietly to himself, physically bracing for the impending storm that was about to hit.

* * *

><p>Not everyone was viewing this unexpected accusation of sexual harassment with dread. A handful of students were taking in this bit of news with glee and amusement.<p>

"HA HA HA HA HA! What a stupid bitch!" Eric Cartman's amusement was the loudest and could be heard in neighboring classrooms.

Brittany Love, who was still peeved over how things went over with Bonnie, was energized at possibility of another rival being taken out of the race. She had always seen Wendy 2 as her greatest obstacle to victory. Even if Bonnie gave up her share of LESBIAN votes, it would have been Gwendolyn who remained to oppose her.

If Brittany emerged from her battle with Bonnie in one piece, it would not be unscathed because there was no doubt a few LESBIANs would vote for someone other than her. Gwendolyn, who was doing better bringing MUFFDIVERs to her, would remain the threat she was and Brittany would have to double time it to get independent votes.

Needless to say, this was a ray of hope in dark times for Brittany.

It was Damien, however, who experienced the most amusement out of anyone in school. The amount of lust, pride, greed, and wrath, along with so many other sins, was positively fattening for the Antichrist. Then again, election times were always fun times down in Hell.

You would never see a greater number of Commandment breakers in the same place, at the same time. It was often cause for party time. So forgive him if he was already salivating and yearning for the taste of magma-heated mead with a dash of sinner's blood, shaken and not stirred. It was a conditioned response, really.

A sex scandal, though. He hadn't thought that one was going to pop up but once again, he was shown that it was indeed possible. The fact it was a female at fault brought about a new dimension; he fully expected that if any sex scandals were to come up, it would have involved one of the males. It was always the males' fault whenever there was a sex scandal.

This new element was so juicy that it almost gave him a hard-on and he was in the middle of class! Not that such a thing happening to him was concerning; he didn't really care what these mortals thought of him. Not even the looks of disgust Charlie was throwing at him shook him…huh, he really did have an erection. Now those looks were making sense.

Back to what was really important, he didn't care what others thought of him. He knew the score already, knew that he wasn't going to be losing or gaining any brownie points. So what would be the point of trying to look presentable?

And now his thoughts were leaving the amusement that came from Gwendolyn Long's scandal and back to something more important. Kyle was taking that Violet girl out again. That Babylonian whore… He had been patient, calm even, throughout Kyle "exploring" his options but Damien was really starting to feel the pressure that came hand in hand with jealousy.

He could admit it, he was not only becoming impatient but also jealous. True, he and Kyle no longer held the title of being a couple but Damien had hoped that, despite the events of last winter, Kyle could have gotten around to at least becoming exclusive again. Damien had lowered himself to using mortal strategies to try and regain the Jew's favor.

Dates. Courtship as Damien better knew them as. Why did mortal males subject themselves to those things? So much effort for so little payoff. And now Kyle was using those strategies for courting Violet. How he wanted nothing more than anything the scare her away. Yes, scare, not threaten or damn to eternal torment. If he did either or those things and Kyle found out, chances of regaining the fiery redhead's favor would be zero.

That was unacceptable.

It really was. But all this patience was leaving a bad taste in his mouth. Literally. Patience wasn't a virtue for nothing, you know. He delighted more in vices than virtues. And now he needed to spit; the taste of virtue was souring his taste buds.

It all came down to this: what was he going to do about that mortal girl? She was trying to steal Kyle away and Kyle was practically throwing himself into her arms. It was frustrating. Damien could admit that he was an anxiety-increasing element because hey, he was evil baby and mortals are instinctively fearful of evil. Naturally, that fear only lasted a second but the more evil you were, the more fear-inspiring you were.

And maybe kidnapping Kyle and forcing his company onto him until some kind of Stockholm Syndrome set in probably wasn't the best way to earn Kyle's affections. It had seemed like a good idea at the time. What, he was lonely! Was it a crime or something to seek social interaction?

Eh, he just went overboard because he was over eager. Sue him. He dared you.

So how was he going to get Kyle back? It all came back to that singular question. He could go into many trains of thought but in the end, it always came full circle. How was he going to do it? He was tired of waiting and watching as the mortal female tried to put the moves on the Jew.

At least her smile was a hazard of sorts. Risking blindness every time she smiled would hamper a potential relationship, especially if the other party valued vision. It would take a very special person to overlook that, someone blinded not by lethal beams of light but by that four letter word that all mortal females were obsessed with.

Love.

Though he wondered what would win out if put to the test: would love shield a person from being physically blinded by the light reflected off those teeth or would those death beams tear through it like a wet paper towel?

An interesting thought but one that got him no closer to his goal. Curse it all, if only the Mormon child hadn't befriended him… It was that mortal in particular that started this all, whether he knew it or not, but "taking care" of him would only hurt his cause further.

So what was out there that could help him? The prom elections seemed to be the only thing that might push things in his favor. However, this Violet was not only the type to not be involved in some kind of sex scandal but also happened to never put herself in that kind of situation.

She was truly a boring person. No fun at all.

Then it occurred to him, a lesson taught to him by an aging crime boss once upon a time. He hadn't really listen at the time, what with the buzz he had from Hell's liquor cabinet, but the words came to him unbidden yet helpfully at the same time.

The brighter the picture, the darker the negative. Everyone had some kind of dark side, a lot of mortals were just better at repressing it or disguising it better than others.

He knew how to get to the bottom of this and maybe, just maybe, she had something on her that would disgust Kyle.

It was a good thing that he knew just what would disgust Kyle.

* * *

><p>"This is getting out of hand," Principal Victoria muttered, resisting the urge to reach into the bottom drawer of her desk and pull out a little something-something that would undoubtedly brighten up her day. "Sex scandals? First we have someone attacking our students and now they're getting into sex scandals? This is way too politicized."<p>

"It's definitely getting out of hand, m'kay," Mackey agreed.

Bain stared back at both of them. "What do you want me to do about it?"

"You're the one that convinced us to keep a hands-off approach here," Principal Victoria stated.

"I know," Bain agreed, not bothering to argue.

"What we want to know is what you're going to do about it?" the principal demanded. "It doesn't look like you're in control here."

"Why bother?" Bain countered. "It was bound to get out of control anyway with this class of students. Trying to stifle them would have ultimately led to the same result only it would have taken longer."

Principal Victoria shared a look with the school counselor. The student did have a point but it was the principle of the matter. What principle that was was currently eluding her right now.

"Why can't this just be over already," the principal moaned out loud to herself. "I honestly don't think I can take too much more of this. I don't know about any of you but that's how I'm feeling."

"You're not alone in that," Mackey agreed with her, sharing the sentiment.

"Well, if you're that desperate, then why not move up the date for voting?" Bain suggested. "Instead of next week, make it this Friday. The candidates will still have time to get campaigning out of their systems and they can't complain about you stifling freedom of speech or whatever constitutional right they might have."

"But we've always held it at around the same time, m'kay," Mackey protested. "That's ninety years of tradition we'll be violating if we move it up!"

"The alternative is to wait it out until the 'traditional' date," Bain replied. "That means experiencing one more week of these shenanigans. Are you willing to see what else they're willing to pull out?"

Another shared look between the principal and school counselor.

"You said this Friday would be good?" Mackey asked.

* * *

><p>Simpletons, and that was the kindest word he had for them. Bain left the principal's office once the details of this "big" change were ironed out. He did not enjoy being called out of class constantly to try and clean of the messes of the moronic cretins that dared to call themselves his peers.<p>

But it was all for the payoff. Nothing would be sweeter than when that one moment arrived. Only then would he be able to relax and not stress himself out on every little detail that threatened to derail everything.

Just a little longer he needed to keep this up. Just a little longer, he told himself as he walked passed someone who was not worth glancing at. Just a little longer and then you can drop the pretenses and return to where you belonged. No more limelight, no more responsibilities, no more deceptions.

He came to a stop when he felt a hand grab his shoulder from behind, grimacing in disgust as he was forced to once again put everything on hold to respond to yet another jackal masquerading as a human being.

"Remember me asshole?" a girl smirked at him, sharp eyes glaring into him with intense hatred. "Think you can ignore me?"

"No and yes," he said blandly as he shrugged off her grip and walked away. Or tried to; the bitch had the gall to grab the end of his trenchcoat and pull.

"You are not ruining this for me," the girl growled at him, scowling and glaring at the same time now.

"Oh? I'm ruining something for you? Terrific. I'll keep ruining it then," Bain said and tried to pull the end of his coat out of the girl's grip.

"You're not getting away, especially not after what you did to me," the girl seethed at him.

"I've done a lot of things," Bain said back, reaching over and grabbing the girl's wrist in a crushing grip. From there, he began to forcefully pry his coat out of her fingers, not being gentle about it whatsoever.

But then the whore used her other hand to grab him by the lapel of his coat. He paused in freeing his beloved piece of cloth and began returning glare for glare.

"Do you remember me now, asshole?" the girl spat at him. "DJ Callahan? The girl you froze alive?"

Bain made a show of thinking about it. "Doesn't ring a bell," he replied.

"How dare you forget," this DJ hissed at him. "I was the one who figured out your amnesia was just an act and you froze me for it."

Once again, Bain made a show of thinking about it. Then he snorted at her. "Goes to show just how much your pea-sized brain really knows. You really think it was an act? If so then answer me this: why would I allow myself to endure all the treatment the so-called students here decided to lavish on me? No one in their right mind would let themselves be treated that way unless they have learned helplessness or are masochistic."

"You continue to lie, huh?" DJ sneered at him.

"You think I would lie about mental illness?" Bain said. "And they say I'm insensitive."

"That doesn't matter because I have you where I want you," DJ leered.

"A shame I don't have you where I want you," Bain drawled then added after a pause, "at the sharp end of a knife."

"Make your jest, I can put you at the scene of a crime," DJ spat.

Surely you jest, cunt. Bain rolled his eyes at her. "Already to bluffing? What am I saying? You couldn't bluff to save your life."

"Laugh now but thanks to a computer hacker, generously rented to me by Black Market at a cheap price, I know that you left a clue on the motorcycle that belonged to Rod Woods," DJ informed him, squeezing in an advertisement while she was at it. "You know, the one he was found on top of?"

"Let me guess, it's a fingerprint," Bain said. "A shame that I happen to know of someone else who also touched it. A certain French mercenary by the name of Christophe DeLorne. And if I recall correctly, he stole it from Rod, got his prints all over the thing. Nice try but you're going to have to do better than that."

"It's still unidentified," DJ defended.

"Unidentified but not mine, I can assure you," Bain stated. "If you want, I'll let you print me. Better yet, I'll go up the police station myself and submit my prints in. They won't be taken seriously. They'll rot somewhere in someone's desk then years from now, someone will get the bright idea to test them and find…nothing. Thus they are discarded and not given a second thought."

DJ continued to glare at him, defiant. "They'll take them seriously if I put them in the national criminal database."

"For what crime?" Bain sneered. "You could make up a case, assault and battery maybe, but how are you going to sneak in a hard copy. Anyone can do digital but there are always hard copies. Without that, it's a meaningless file and once some communications are made, it too will be discarded."

DJ's glare intensified.

"You're out of your league, bitch," Bain hissed at her. Only now did he realize the bitch was a couple inches taller than him but that would only fan the flames of his anger which was growing by the second. "You haven't taken the time to read up on investigative procedure or the judicial aspects of law and order. Knowledge is the most powerful thing you can have but from what I see, you're a very _powerless_ person.

"What's your angle? Why so pissed? You look like you're on your period but I get the feeling that you're not. So you're always pissed off. Mad about something but just displacing it onto someone else? Or are you mad at yourself? Or maybe you're not mad at all. Maybe it's more simple. You're just mean. Mean to the bone. So naturally mean but inside you're desperately craving something.

"Vengeance you'll tell me but is that really all there is? Could it be this is just a call for help, maybe just you trying to say 'look at me.' No, no, that's not quite right is it? You don't need anybody but at the same time you do. So you go through the motions of stalking me and my associates, trying to look for something that's not there or you are unable to see. That's it, that's where I remember you. You're my new stalker. Congratulations, you are number two or is that three? A big achievement there."

"Fuck you," DJ growled at him, not showing that any of his words were inflicting damage.

"Defensive much?" Bain taunted. This was one tough cookie to crack, he had to admit. By now, anybody else would have this look on them, a look that told Bain that his words were harming them, tearing them apart. DJ just looked like she was getting more and more angry and not in a personal way. She really was mean by nature, wasn't she? No underlying causes for it.

Well that wasn't any fun.

"You sound like one of those valley girls," DJ spat at him.

Ouch. If you were trying to rile him up with that comment…you were succeeding.

"You must charm the pants off of any man willing to look at you," Bain retorted. "But what would be attractive about you? Someone so cold and so naturally mean must repel a lot people, including prospective sperm donators. Is that why you're so focused on me? Because I managed to find someone willing to put up with it? Do you secretly crave affection that you're desperate enough to get it anywhere? Or maybe it's because you're more like me than you care to admit."

"I'm not like you," DJ snapped at him, her voice tight and sounding like it was being forced out.

Got her.

"I'd say whatever helps you sleep at night…but it would fall on deaf ears, wouldn't it?" Bain began to intensify his verbal assault. "It's what I myself would do, ignore it. Doesn't matter because I know I'm better than the person speaking the words. You feel that way also, don't you? You're so much better than everyone else and they are just running around like chickens with their heads cut off, unaware that their incredibly short time is about to run out at any second. Why bother getting involved with their antics when it's all meaningless?

"We're so much alike, you and I. The sole difference is our acceptance of the fact. You don't want to admit that we're anything alike and entrench in denial just to spare your fragile mind. I'm unburdened by it because I'm not afraid to admit I have something in common with someone else, even if it's with a detestable and immoral cunt. But you, even now you're denying it but later tonight or some time in your indeterminable future, you'll sit down and you'll think about it. And you'll realize that I'm right and that will just kill you.

"Not the fact that we're similar but that I'm right. I'm right and someone in that rotten core of yours, _you know it_."

"I'm nothing like you," DJ snarled, her eyes blazing with rage.

It didn't matter, he could see that his words had struck home, wherever her home was. He gave her a knowing smirk instead of more words because sometimes you didn't need words to convey information.

She understood exactly what he was saying whether she knew it or not.

"I'm not!" DJ practically yelled at him.

"Your days at that river in Egypt are numbered," Bain replied. "Oh, and before I forget, nice try. A failure of one but still props for trying to come up with something solid. It's more than what anyone else around here would do."

"You won't get away with what you did to me," DJ swore.

"Whatever helps you sleep at night." A reference to his previous psychological mindfuck but appropriate. Show you don't care, that this idiot means nothing to you and nothing that they can do is worthy of your attention.

It cuts more into a person dead set on revenge than a knife could ever achieve.

And while DJ went stalking off, most likely wracking her insufficient brain power to figure out some other way to "get him," Bain was internally reveling at the victory, enjoying every second of her frustration.

Really, there was no hope for her if she really though a girl could triumph over him in a battle of wits.

* * *

><p>If Gwendolyn thought that the talk about her sex scandal would die any time soon, she was more than sadly mistaken.<p>

Sadly, sadly mistaken.

Her mouth felt like it was full of ash when all the classroom television sets turned on right before the first lunch period of the day and…and…

How else could she explain it? Well here goes…

It looked like some kind of interview where her accuser of sexual harassment was giving details of the alleged misconduct. You couldn't tell who it was because the person was blacked out, only their shape barely visible but from the length of the shoulders, Gwendolyn believed it was a guy. The interviewer, who was also another guy, was dressed in suit and tie, hand combed blond hair with what looked like graying sideburns, and had a pair of spectacles perched on his nose.

There was something familiar about him but she couldn't quite place it. For some reason, she was thinking of Mormons.

"_Will you describe for me what candidate Gwendolyn Long would do to molest you?"_ the "reporter" asked to the "victim," trying to sound as professional as he could having trouble on some words, like "molest."

"_She would come up to me in the bathroom,"_ the "victim" began to explain, their voice deepened so much as to take away any hints of masculinity or femininity. Damn it! _"And…and she would shove her breasts into my face…"_

Eric Cartman could be heard snorting and then rudely commenting, "What a fag!"

"_She would kiss me, on the lips, and, and, she would touch my…my junk,"_ the "victim" continued in excruciating detail.

The "reporter" held up a naked Ken doll and held it out towards the "victim." _"Can you show where on the doll she touched you?"_

"_Here,"_ the victim pointed to the unequipped doll's crotch, _"here,"_ the part of the chest where the nipples would be, _"here,"_ the doll's mouth, _"and here."_ the doll's ass.

"_She groped your ass,"_ the "reporter" stated.

"_Yes,"_ the "victim" answered. Why did it sound like whoever it was was always on the verge of breaking out into tears?

"_What else can you tell us?"_ the "reporter" asked.

"_Well—"_ At that point, the video feed was cut off, the school administrators finally succeeding in getting control of their media instruments. But the damage was done. Gwendolyn could feel the looks being thrown at her.

The guys were looking at her in interest, thinking with their dicks as always. The girls, on the other hand, were more disgusted. Jesus titty-fucking Christ, this was getting worse and worse by the minute!

When the bell rang, ending the period, Gwendolyn was one of the first to escape the oppression of the classroom, her mind whirring at incredible speeds, trying to figure out what the hell she was going to do. Had it all remained something said on the morning announcements, there was a possibility that she could have dismissed them more easily.

Thanks to whoever made that damn interview, that was an impossibility!

The formatting and the professionalism were all first rate too! The "reporter" always seemed to be squinting, as if unable to see through his glasses, but that didn't seem to take away any of the harm that was being caused. And who the hell was playing the "victim!" If anyone was being victimized here, it was her!

"Hey Wendy 2!" someone called out to her from behind.

Again with that stupid name! Would it ever disappear! Anger from the damage done to her campaign, she whirled around to glare at whoever dared to utter that Goddamn moniker.

It was obvious who said it. There were two of them, a guy and a girl, the guy look practically identical to the "reporter" and the girl giving her this cool look.

"You have two seconds before I rip your fucking spine through your ass," Gwendolyn growled, her fists clenched tighter.

It was the girl who responded. "Did you really think you would get away with harassing Stan?" Gwendolyn blinked dumbly at that, all thought process coming to a stop. It took a moment but two plus two finally added up to four and not five.

"You're Stan's girlfriend?" she blurted out. "You're Kyra?"

"The same," Kyra confirmed before she leaned forward menacingly. "I found out, Wendy 2. Stan spilled everything. If you think I was going to let you do what you wanted without a fight, think again."

More and more things were starting to click. The boy beside Kyra, she recognized him as that Mormon kid…and he _was_ that "reporter" in that damn interview! She could see faint traces of gray color in his sideburns, exactly where the color had been died. Or frosted, perhaps.

But then, that would mean the "victim" was…

Stan.

She hadn't expected that. Stan caving in and telling Kyra about her attempts to woo him over. Her fists began to tighten in their grip. If it wasn't for this conniving slut here, Stan would have been hers a long time ago. This whole thing about allegations of sexual misconduct were nothing more than some desperate ploy to keep her from being Stan's rightful girlfriend. How fucking pathetic.

"If it's a fight you want, bitch, prepare for war," she snarled.

"I'm going to bend you over a Warthog and rape you with a sniper rifle like a n00b playing for the first time until you vomit Ol' Glory for four fucking years," Kyra countered.

Gwendolyn's jaw slackened and she found she could not say anything to that. Instead of risking more of her dignity, she spun around on her heel and stomped away, seething in unholy rage.

* * *

><p>"I can't believe I said that," Kyra said, dazed as Gwendolyn took her leave.<p>

"I didn't know you had it in you to say that," Gary remarked.

"Neither did I," Kyra admitted.

"You do know that the easy part's over," Gary pointed out. "From here on out, it's going to be fiercest catfight ever."

"Let her come," Kyra stated, back into game mode. "She is totally going to be Pwned."

* * *

><p>Bonnie felt empowered like never before. Her confidence had reached levels never before reached and she was going to cram it all down Brittany's throat the moment she found her.<p>

What brought this change you might be asking yourself. It was a simple answer, really.

The great prices at Black Market, naturally! You can find anything you're looking for and more! Need a boost in confidence? An endorsement for your political campaign? Cyanide pills to slip into the competition's drink when they weren't looking? All of that and more could be found at the Black Market and at cheap prices too!

…yeah, she had to do that now. Part of her contract.

But she was getting so much more out of her new partnership with Wolf Black. Though aloof at times, he knew exactly what he wanted and knew how to get it. And now, not only was he secretly funding the super PAC that supported her, he was getting involved with her campaign itself. A manager of sorts.

All she had to do was sign her soul or whatever over to him, as well as put in some advertisements for his business, and it was all golden.

That and he had agreed to put together a debate for all the remaining Prom Queen candidates. Something about getting their message out to a wider audience and that guys didn't have a monopoly on this stuff.

She got a feeling that he was a feminist on that last part but she had nothing to back up that belief. He had also said something about her polling better than the others, of which she was unaware there was a poll going around in the first place. So she would let that go in favor or tracking down Brittany and informing her of this newest development in this race. She also wanted psyche the other girl up so that when the time came, she would be utterly crushed in front of a live viewing audience.

Something about this Prom election was bringing out the worst in her but whatever it took to get Kenny. Whatever it took.

Now where was Brittany? Was she hiding from her? Coward! Did she not know how to handle adversity? Despite her claims of getting a date with Kenny, if she couldn't stand up for her man then she didn't deserve him!

All she could see were the students around her, mingling and toddling around, in her way and not realizing that she was a woman on a mission. So she had to walk around or squeeze between groups of teens who were oblivious to her sense of purpose, not parting like the Red Sea for her. The one thing that she had not seen was Brittany and she was growing a bit irritated with every second that she didn't see the other girl.

Come on! In the movies, everyone parted for you as if sensing you were doing something important and so cleared the way so you would have an easier time. Why wasn't it happening for her? Was she not popular enough or something?

Then by chance she caught a glimpse of long auburn-colored hair turning the corner into another hallway. Bonnie recognized the hairdo of her greatest rival for Kenny' love and quickened her pace to catch up.

Turning the corner, she got a clearer look and indeed it was Brittany along with a couple other LESBIANs. Finally! Don't think you can hide anymore!

She marched ahead with purpose, easily catching up with her rival as the other girl was moving at the snail's pace that every other student moved at. Bonnie cleared her throat, readying herself to call the girl out.

"Hey Brittany!" she called. Other students looked towards her, her voice interrupting their conversations or knocking them out of introspective thoughts but what was more important was that Brittany heard her. Brittany looked over her shoulder and scowled at her once she had spotted her.

"What do you want?" she demanded.

"I wanted you know whether you're going to be ready," Bonnie smirked uncharacteristically at her main competition.

Brittany's scowl deepened. "Ready for what?"

"Tonight, you, me, and the others running for Prom Queen are going to have a debate," Bonnie stated. "We're going to settle this thing once and for all."

"Please, you don't stand a chance," Brittany rolled her eyes at her. "I'd crush you every day of the week and twice on Sunday."

"You couldn't win a debate against a mute!" Bonnie shot back. "It'll be like taking ice cream from a baby!"

Brittany frowned. "You mean candy."

"No, I mean ice cream!" Bonnie stated.

"No, it's taking candy from a baby, not ice cream," Brittany said.

"Whatever," Bonnie said. "You're going down like…like King Kong!"

"It's on like Donkey Kong," Brittany countered.

"You got that from a movie," Bonnie spat.

"Oh, like you're so original," Brittany sneered.

"Better than being some…some _slut_ who can't get over the fact that the boy they like never called her back!" Bonnie shouted. Okay, even she would admit that that was a low blow there.

Brittany's eyes bulged in outrage and her body was trembling with suppressed fury. "I'm going to crush you," she declared coldly, turning away and storming off. Hey, were those spouts of steams coming out of her ears?

Bonnie nodded, satisfied with herself. Oh, she was in the game now. Wolf was providing her with the opportunity to crush the competition and far be it from her let the chance slip through her fingers. And why should the guys get all the fun? She wanted to be on the stage and in the spotlight too.

It was no less than she deserved.

Dang, this whole election thing was bringing the worst out of her.


	21. Kyle's Terrible, Awful, No Good, Very

Author's Note: New poll up and like last time, which were your favorite OCs in this story? You have up to five choices so you aren't limited to just one. The title should self-explanatory. But anyway, reusing a couple things in this chapter and I think it could have been done better, particularly the debate portions. However, I had little material, at least new material, to use here so I started pulling gaffes from decades ago and even reused some. A lot of stuff could have been done better. Enjoy.

Disclaimer: I do not own South Park.

Warning: language, violence, death

Kyle's Terrible, Awful, No Good, Very Bad Day

It was getting dark out but Marcus wasn't making any move to leave his stool. After the debacle at that carnival, the SPPD had found itself with a lot a free time on its hands, something that Barbrady didn't like one bit.

While his superior should have been under some kind of investigation by some kind of Internal Affairs unit, nothing was happening on that front. A bit surprising until you found out that South Park had cut Internal Affairs off the law enforcement budget because, quote, "there wasn't enough cash for it" and there was hardly anything that went on in this town that would allow Barbrady to get in such a situation where Internal Affairs would be needed.

What ultimately happened was that Sergeant Harrison Yates from the PCPD came down and gave both of them reprimands and then in private congratulating them on kicking some political terrorist ass. They'd be taking it from here, blah blah blah, _don't leave town for anything_.

There was a threat about introducing Barbrady to Shirley Temple and that she likes it when he shoots her load. Marcus didn't get it.

At the least, nothing was happening in the town outside of that latest attack but since the PCPD shooed them away, it was essentially like they hadn't anything else to do. That gave Marcus more time to do his own private investigation.

Naturally, he was taking advantage of the opportunity to try and find some leads on Copycat. The killer had to have left behind or taken some part with the crime scene with him at each of his killings. It was the theory of all homicides that no matter how small, a killer always left evidence at a crime scene and took evidence with him and it was law enforcement's job to finds those pieces of evidence. With forensics as it was, it was a theory that was becoming more and more true by the day.

What was the common thread between each slaying? Why was the killer mimicking other killers? What was the reason? Whats and Whys, those were all he had right now.

"Oh poo, this sucks," Barbrady pouted from his desk, his eyes masked by the sunglasses that he had yet to take off.

That was another question. What did Barbrady's eyes look like?

As if the cosmos heard his question and decided to humor him, Barbrady took off his glasses, a thumb and pointer finger rubbing against his eyelids. Okay, that was a cockblock, sort of, right there. Give him hope to see what was under those glasses but then trick him by using something else to cover them up.

Barbrady's hand lowered…

Holy shit.

Marcus' jaw dropped as he started at the sight before him. Barbrady's eyes were unveiled and out in the open for all to see…

A file cabinet conveniently blocked all other viewers', as well as you readers', from being able to see the spectacle.

Barbrady's sunglasses were soon back on and the large man planted one of his double chins on his fist which was propped up by his elbow which rested on the flat surface of his desk. A pitiful sigh was emitted by the cop, an obvious sign of depression if there ever was one.

That broke Marcus out of his stupor. Where was he again? Oh right, he was at the station. At work. And Barbrady was looking sad. Why was he looking sad again? Was it being left out of the political attacks investigations? Yeah, Marcus could emphasize with him there.

The biggest case the town has had since ever and the local police were being told to keep out of it and do nothing like it wasn't even happening. An offense to any person who believed in justice and upholding the law.

But what could they do? The PCPD were more prominent and they had used the Jack Bauer rule. What else could the SPPD do in the face of that?

Nothing.

It was back to the boring grindstone and Marcus was soon reminded about how boring it really was in this town. No calls for help, no reports of suspicious activity, the Zimmerman family was quiet for once, and lastly there were no signs of domestic disturbances. How was he ever going to learn to be a better cop with so little going on?

Perhaps he should have thought this through and applied to the county instead. Sierra had been on him for choosing the town instead and now that he had a lot of free time, he wondered what her reasons for getting him to accept this position were.

He had thought that she wanted to return home after she graduated and would have liked it if she has someone in her hometown that she wanted to spend the rest of her life with working there already. But was that the only reason or was there more?

Looking back over to Barbrady, Marcus let loose a sigh as well.

Barbrady, in response, sighed again and lazily picked up a television remote. Across the room and onto of some file cabinets whose drawers were open and spilling out disordered reports, a small television flicked on. With the ease of a middle-aged man who had nothing else better to do, Barbrady quickly surfed through the channels, searching for something to entertain or occupy him.

"Twenty channels and there's nothing on," Barbrady lamented.

Marcus had thought that television had looked pretty old…

Wait, twenty channels? But didn't cable have more than that?

"Do you think we should call it a night?" Marcus asked.

"No!" Barbrady declared forcefully. "Those Park County guys think they're so great but we have to show them that we're just as good as they are. Or mediocre good in comparison if we're not as good as them. I forget which it is."

And what use was it to argue with that?

The channel changed again.

_Coming up next on FOX, it's the 2012 Prom Queen debates! We're giving you all the insights of the candidates who are campaigning for your votes! Get in on action and watch tonight's debate live! Ten o'clock eastern, eight o'clock mountain time._

Marcus perked up. "Shouldn't we be at that?" he asked.

"The Park County guys are taking care of it," Barbrady pouted. "Told me they had a restraining order taken out and everything. I'm not to be within a mile of the school gymnasium."

_Christ_, Marcus moaned to himself in his head. He was really beginning to wonder what the hell he had been thinking when he wanted to join this department.

By the looks of it, he hadn't been thinking at all.

* * *

><p>Bain was going to turn in early this night. Staying up late then having a busy day would easily tire even the most stalwart of humans. He needed to be on top of his game if he was going to pull any of this off and if he was exhausted, that would be detrimental.<p>

Yes, there was that Prom Queen debate tonight but that was not something he wanted to get involved with. What did he care about some _girls_ fighting it out over a fake crown? He'd leave Wendy Testaburger to deal with it while he could get some much needed rest. Come tomorrow, he'd get a look at just how that overachieving bitch would handle a few hours of his position.

He even knew how she would act. She would pretend it was no big deal, that she could've handled it with both hands tied behind her back so why don't you give her the position back? The bags under her eyes would tell another story and belie the fact that she was indeed unaffected.

So predictable, these whores. They liked to pretend they could handle a man's responsibilities when in reality they couldn't. Should go back to their kitchens where they belonged.

It truly was a shame they didn't know their place.

Bain rested his head against his flattened pillow and stared at the ceiling, willing the dark recesses of sleep to claim him. The moment his eyelids grew heavy, he would know that unconsciousness would be upon him. Thus, he would supplicate himself to its siren call and become dead to the world…

Sounded fancy there, almost poetic there. Ugh.

His brow creased as he detected a change in temperature. Something had changed and though it wasn't noticeable like the wind blowing, he could just tell that something had either happened or was in the process of happening.

He opened his eyes and turned his head towards the window. Why the window? Just a feeling…

Oh. God. Damn it.

He pushed himself up on his arms so that he was sitting up and glaring at his window.

There, crouched on the sill was McCormick in that ridiculous Mysterion getup.

He _still_ hadn't outgrown the phase?

"If you haven't noticed, I am trying to get some shut eye here," he growled at the intruder. "Now's not the time to be pissing me off."

"Then it would be in your best interest to not deny me anything," McCormick, excuse him, "Mysterion" replied using that dumbass raspy voice of his. As if it "cleverly" disguised his voice.

"Deny? I have half a mind to report you," Bain retorted, glaring. "Or I could send down the grapevine that there's now a gay rapist who intends to plunder the asses of every male he finds. We might get another Def Con 50, if you so wish."

"Why aren't you at tonight's debate?" "Mysterion" demanded, ignoring him. "Since you're the head of prom committee and it is your policy of letting the prom candidates do whatever they want that the school is using, shouldn't you be there?"

"I'm tired and I'm sure the Testaburger cunt can handle it," Bain spat, increasing the intensity of his glare.

"Or you're creating an alibi so that you can steal off into the night and attack the girls running for prom queen," "Mysterion" stated.

It took Bain a second longer than necessary to process that statement. "You think I'm the one attacking those brainless bimbos?" he deadpanned.

"You're the only one in town with enough malice towards women to do something like that," "Mysterion" said.

Bain stared at the masked vigilante for a moment before he began cracking up in laughter. "You-you've got to be kidding!" he cackled in amusement. "You think—ke ke ke—that I would lower myself—snort!—to striking down those bitches—hee hee!—because I'm the most sexist individual in town?"

"Yes," "Mysterion" said simply.

Bain's chuckles were killed by that one word and he frowned. "Like I haven't heard that before. If you're to believe anything from me, believe this. I did not harm those idiots. I have absolutely no motivation to do that. No reason at all."

"Except to try and ruin Prom," "Mysterion" threw out.

Bain raised an eyebrow. "Ruin it? Now why would I do such a thing when I'm the one in charge of putting it together?"

"You remember that Valentine's Day play some of the girls tried to present your freshmen year of high school?" "Mysterion" asked rhetorically.

"I heard that bombed," Bain shrugged.

"You were the one that sabotaged it," "Mysterion" accused.

"It was a ridiculous project to begin with," Bain said, neither acknowledging or denying whatever role he may have had.

"You inserted yourself into an important position then just as you're doing now," "Mysterion" stated.

"I don't like where you're going with this," Bain said with narrowed eyes.

"You despise any school function," "Mysterion" said. "With the exception of last semester's Homecoming, you've never attended any of them much less gotten involved with them. Why change now unless you're planning something big and attacking the prom queen candidates is part of that plan."

"Even if I had something planned, I would never do something like attack some stupid girls in the middle of the night," Bain scoffed.

"What about your extracurricular activities?" "Mysterion" quipped.

Bain's eye ticked at that. Yes, kidnapping and murdering girls did go under the title of attacking stupid girls, didn't it? Not that he would ever admit that out loud and especially to the McCormick persona.

"I don't see what that has to do with anything," Bain said. "What does is you invading my house and preventing me from resting up for the next few days."

"The night is still early Bain," "Mysterion" stated. "Kyle should be leaving his house soon to head for the debate. The other girls have probably already arrived. No one will be harming them tonight."

"Because you'll be there to protect them," Bain said sarcastically. "You've been doing such a bang-up job protecting the others, haven't you? Perhaps those idiots ought to find someone better to protect them. Wonder what the going rates for French mercenaries are…?"

"You're going down this time Bain," "Mysterion" threatened. "I'll be there to nail you, whatever it takes."

Bain pinched the bridge of his nose in agitation but as he looked back up, "Mysterion" had taken his leave, leaving the window opened in his wake.

That boy needed to learn to shut windows when he left. It was annoying having to get up and close it himself. But still, he was going to have to be more careful with how he did things from now on. If McCormick was going to start playing a more investigative role, he might just end up ruining everything.

Maybe now was the time to shake things up a bit…

* * *

><p>The decision had been a simple one to make. Kyle was going to walk to the school for tonight's debate. Alone. And in clear violation of the rules to remain in the prom queen election. He was determined to get expelled from this insanity one way or another, even if he had to risk being assaulted.<p>

It would be over his dead body if he won that damn crown. He'd kill himself because he knew that if he did win, he was going to have a hundred some odd girls after his head and they wouldn't mercifully make his execution quick.

As you can see, this was all in the name of self-preservation.

He was not going to have whatever dignity and masculinity he had left be destroyed by this, no sirree!

With his recognizable orange jacket over the suit he was wearing and green ushanka perched on top of his head, he ventured out into the dusk-lit town, streetlights gradually flickering on as he made his way down the sidewalk. Yes, he was a bright target sticking out in a darkening environment. Someone put a bull's-eye on him because that would only make him an even more tempting target.

If being attacked by that so-called political terrorist or whatever he was didn't get him kicked off the ballot, he didn't know what else would.

Damien really had the school faculty afraid of him, didn't he?

A blatant violation of the election rules, something that could not be ignored, was his best chance here. Damien might think himself all powerful but he had never had to face the wrath of a bunch of self-absorbed and happy-ending obsessed teenaged girls before. Anything that violated their expectations was to be annihilated without question.

Stores were closing up as he entered downtown South Park, the school on the other side of this part of town, the big reason why they had to be bused from their homes. If this was like any other town, the school would have been closer to the residential district so that kids could walk to it. They still could walk to school, if they were old or desperate enough, but fears of child-kidnappings had not quite abated here.

And perhaps all that stuff about paying attention to your surroundings had been drilled a little bit too much into his head as he was perking up at any and every sound he heard. Was he putting a jinx on this? Because he could totally see that happening here. It would be his luck that when he purposely went out to be attacked, he would be left alone while someone else not looking for trouble would be.

Did he look casual enough? Did he look so nonchalant that he looked like he didn't care about being attack and would thus provoke one? Was he even doing this right? What more did he need to do?

Footsteps behind him caused him to tense. Okay Kyle, this might be it. The moment you've been waiting for. He peeked over his shoulder as covertly as he could and growled in frustration when he just saw someone walking in the opposite direction, a woman he would guess since every step she made included clacking.

Fucking high heels.

A car passed by but the Jew paid it no heed. In almost no time, he came to the corner of an intersection, practically halfway through downtown and nothing had happened. A cool breeze passed by but it did not send a chill into him. Spring was starting to settle down in town and that meant the nights were going to be warmer than they usually were. He might have been overdressed wearing this coat of his because the high 50s were bordering the high temperature of 60 degrees.

Boiling for South Park.

Look! Sweat was beading up on his forehead! This was not from stress but how warm he was getting. Yes, risking serious bodily harm was stressful but his frustration was overwhelming that so the only thing that could account for that physical reaction was that his body was trying to cool itself off.

He continued to pass by a few other pedestrians, all heading home or the bar if it was a man. Damn it all, it was going to be his luck that he made it all the way to the school and be there in time for that debate. Why did he think this was going to work in the first place, hmm? He always had shitty luck, no matter what was involved.

There was a squeal of tires from down the street and Kyle glanced behind him. Looked like someone was in a hurry. They were speeding, racing down the street in his direction but Kyle merely shrugged his shoulders and continued walking.

At least, that was what he was doing until something big impacted him from the side, forcing him off the sidewalk and into a mound of melting snow seconds before the car climbed onto the sidewalk and sped past just where he had been. He hadn't seen that last part, though, as he was too busy pulling his head out of snow to glare at whatever had hit him.

Imagine his surprise to see a dark yet tattered cape blocking his vision. He yanked the cloth out of his face and found his jaw slackening as he saw a familiar, purple-clad body placing itself between him and the car that had spun on its tires so that it was facing them. The engine was rumbling like some kind of beast, the vehicle giving the impression that it was about to pounce.

The tire marks on the sidewalk gave it all away.

Someone was trying to run him over.

Goddamn it.

"Kyle, you need to run. Now," the caped figure in front of him ordered. That throaty voice…where had he last heard that? It soon clicked as he recognized the outfit that could only belong to the beloved childhood icon Mysterion.

"Kenny?" he asked out loud.

"No time Kyle, RUN!" Kenny roared at him and it was the tone of voice that made you obey without question. Kyle was no exception as he scrambled to his feet and began running for his life.

That was a statement made truer when the car roared to life and chased after him. The car drove over the sidewalk and straight through the melting snow, Kenny in Mysterion apparel dangerously jumping onto the hood of the car. But that did nothing to stop the driver who was easily catching up with the redhead.

Kyle looked over his shoulder, his eyes widening in fear as he saw just how close the car was getting even as it bounced on the uneven terrain. Survival instinct kicking in, Kyle threw himself to a side instead of continue to run straight ahead, the car passing him but coming to a quick stop, the brake lights casting a red glow on the snow.

Kenny was nowhere to be found, his dark outfitted form gone from the hood of the car.

Kyle barely picked himself out of the snow when the driver side door opened and a masked person exited, a crowbar held tightly in a clenched fist. With wide eyes, Kyle watched the person who could only be the one attacking prom queen candidates approach him and what looked like absolute rage clouding their eyes.

Looks like he had gotten what he had been asking for.

And then the person spoke.

"You disgust me," the attacker said. "A boy having the gall to run for Prom Queen? It's an absolute insult to everything Prom."

What was that all about?

The attacker had the crowbar his above their head and Kyle dumbly watched in a sick kind of fascination that prevented him from trying to save his hide. Lucky for him someone else was watching it for him.

Kenny—Mysterion—whatever tackled the attacker from behind and Kyle jumpstarted into action as he rolled to a side.

"Get out of here Kyle! I'll handle this!" Kenny yelled at him.

Kyle merely nodded and took off, trying to put as much distance between him and the violence taking place behind him. It escaped his mind at the time that he was heading in the opposite direction of the school.

* * *

><p>You could feel the energy backstage as the various remaining candidates got themselves ready. Of those who were still in the running, only three had arrived. In one corner was Brittany, some of her loyal followers getting her prepped up and ready, as well as giving her an ego boost. Violet was sort of off by herself, being tended by makeup artists so as to make her look more presentable to the audience and the viewers at home.<p>

She was looking more sickly pale than anything, like she was in the middle of recovering from a cold or something. Heh, no one would vote for some who looked like they were sick. Just look at Kennedy vs. Nixon!

That just left the remaining girl, Bonnie, and she was more of Wolf's concern than anything. She was going to be one half of a pair that was going to get him mountains of additional revenue. As long as he made sure that she was presentable and laid off the gaffes, she'd get one step closer and then he was well on his way to getting what he wanted.

Hmm, where were the other three? Heidi Turner hadn't shown up yet and neither had Wendy 2. Wendy 2 especially needed to be here to address the accusations of sexual harassment and try and save her campaign. Huh, wasn't there a sixth person? Oh well, didn't matter. The only person that did matter was Bonnie but once she was out on that stage, it would all be out of his control.

Wolf didn't like being out of control.

In the meantime he would try and coach this girl in the best way he knew how.

"Now, if a question comes up that asks you what your platform is, how are you going to answer?" he quizzed.

"I'm pro-business and that I'll make it easier for students to sell more stuff on campus," Bonnie answered, sounding like she was repeating a phrase made by someone else instead of herself.

"Eh, good enough," he shrugged. "Okay, what do you say if someone questions your credibility?"

"I change the argument so that I'm accusing them of not being credible," Bonnie answered dully.

"And what are you going to do at every opportunity?" he pressed.

"Talk about all the good deals I can get from Black Market for my every need," Bonnie said.

Wolf smirked. "You're going to do great out there."

* * *

><p>It was just as Kyle vanished from sight that the masked attacker managed to break away from Mysterion, shoving the masked vigilante away from him.<p>

At least, Mysterion thought it was a him. One of his hands had found itself close to the chest and it was quite soft there. Maybe too soft.

That musing would have to be put off as Mysterion ducked under the crowbar that swung at his head. Now that hadn't been really nice. Balling a fist, he threw a punch at the masked individual who moved his head with the fist, lessening the amount of impact that the blow would have. Looks like this asshole had a bit of experience with fighting.

A surprise since every person this asshole attacked had always been defenseless.

A foot shot out and kicked him away but Mysterion rolled with it, also showing just how good he was at hand-to-hand combat. The attacker was back on his feet, watching him as he held his crowbar in preparation of another strike. Mysterion slowly got back up onto his feet, never taking his eyes off the attacker for an instant.

"Change in M.O.?" he asked. "Are you trying to add vehicular manslaughter to your list of offenses?"

The attacker narrowed his eyes but said nothing in reply.

"I heard you earlier; I know you can speak," Mysterion stated.

The attacker snorted as a reply.

"I don't know what your aim is or what you hope to get out of attacking helpless girls and boy but it ends here. Tonight," Mysterion declared.

"That's what you think, pajama-wearing freak," the attacker uttered in reply.

A passing thought, _what was so odd about that voice_, distracted him only for a second and it was a second that was not taken advantage of. The attacker was moving to his left and Mysterion reciprocated, the two circling one another, waiting for one to break down and strike first.

It was a tense standoff, Mysterion searching for an opportunity to knock this asshole down and put an end to this reign of terror. A subjective phrase right there but he had nothing else that he could use in its place.

The attacker made to move forward but pulled back just as quickly, a feint. Mysterion tensed but relaxed a bit when he realized no attack was forthcoming. Now it was becoming a battle of the minds, where the person who strategized better would be the victor. What move would this masked person make, Mysterion wondered as he studied his opponent. Should he strike first and risk blundering this opportunity? Or should he wait and react instead when the attacker made a move?

His muscles were tense, stress slowly but unnoticeably exhausting him. While he could handle it, if this prolonged standoff continued for too long then he'd be too tired to do anything. However, it was undoubted that the masked attacker would fall first in this situation. The attacker, despite committing acts of violence, wasn't as physically or athletically sure as he was. There was no question, he would fall first and Mysterion would take him down.

The attacker noticeably tensed and Mysterion readied himself for an impending strike but he was taken off guard when the attacker instead spun around and took off. It took Mysterion a couple seconds to realize what was happening and he was charging right after the escaping bastard.

This guy was truly a chicken shit! Could he not take on someone who could fight back? Did he only stand a chance when he was coming up from behind someone and knocking them out without a fight?

His angry thoughts needed to be put to a side; it became obvious that the attacker was heading for his car, hoping to make a quick getaway. Mysterion narrowed his eyes and began to sprint but the attacker had gotten behind the wheel by the time the vigilante reached the car.

The taillights brightened and the wheels began spinning in reverse. Because this wasn't a paved road, the car was stalling somewhat before it began moving. Using his running speed, Mysterion leapt up into the air and landed on top of the car's trunk as the vehicle backed up to the road.

With gritted teeth, the hero slowly climbed onto the car's roof, struggling to keep some kind of purchase on the smooth surface as the back tires reached the sidewalk, jostling the car.

There was more jostling as the car backed onto the road itself and before Mysterion knew it, he was holding on for dear life as the car was put into drive and began racing off down the street.

* * *

><p>Kyle gasped as he came to a stop right outside of an alley. Resting his hands on his knees, Kyle bent forward seeking to regain some breath. He had no idea how long he had run but it looked like he was in downtown. He'd need to check some street signs and figure out where he was before he went and declared he was lost because a real man would never admit that he was lost.<p>

Damn, he should have thought this more thoroughly. He had hoped to be attacked but when the attack did come, he hadn't wanted to get hurt. What was up with that? He needed some injury in order to make the story of being attacked believable and he was too much of a coward to inflict those injuries on himself.

The last thing he had expected was for Kenny to be looking out for him while dressed as his superhero persona. Still, it was kinda sweet that his friend was looking out for him. Showed the blond cared for him.

But still, he chose now to interfere? Was he doomed or something to be stuck in this stupid ass election? At this rate, he was never getting out of it. How else could this get worse?

Something slapped against the ground nearby and something wet splashed against him. His eyes had closed instinctively at the sound and so when he slowly opened them, he found himself staring at what looked like a large chunk of meat. A chuck of meat that had also sent bits of itself away and splattered against the poor Jew.

"Damn it! Missed the dumpster again!" a voice from up high rang out. "I don't think it hit anyone important."

So he wasn't anyone important. That was good to know, wasn't it? This crap was now all over him. Fucking disgusting. What next?

He paused as he heard a low growl come from behind him. Slowly, Kyle turned his head until he saw a very big dog eyeing him hungrily.

Goddamn it.

* * *

><p>Not only should assault and battery be put on the list of charges against this guy but speeding was another offense that should be added.<p>

Mysterion only said that because a speed limit sign passed by with the number 30 on it and the car was definitely not going 30 miles an hour.

How the hell was he going to stop this car? He didn't have anything on him that could maybe pop the tires and he hadn't thought to carry something like that anyway. If only he could find something that would help him stop this vehicle.

…he said if only he could find something that would help him stop this vehicle.

…damn it, where was Wolf Black when you really needed him?

Guess he was going to have to figure out what the hard way was.

Shifting towards the driver's side, Mysterion released the grip of one of his hands and balled it into a fist. Bracing himself, he punched at the driver's side window, hoping but failing to break the barrier. The car jerked, a sign that the driver was surprised by the action.

His hand throbbed from the unsuccessful blow but Mysterion was not dissuaded from trying again. And again.

The car was now all over the road, the attacker trying to literally shake him off. The hero had to pull his fist back and use to cling onto the car roof for all it was worth. His cape whipped behind him in his wake and the air buffeting him from in front had taken his hood off, revealing his messy blond hair. The mask remained, a blessing he supposed.

The tires squealed as the car braked and Mysterion found that momentum was pushing him forward. Now he was on the hood of the car and he just barely caught himself on the front bumper, preventing him from smacking into the paved road in front of them.

A good thing you could say when the car began picking up speed. Mysterion tried to push himself backwards, but it was a bit hard when the wind coming at you was pinning you down. Carefully, he looked over his shoulder at the attacker who he could see was having trouble looking around his billowing cape, the idea of opening his side window and looking out of that not occurring to him.

He knew he was going to regret this but what else could he do?

Slowly, he pulled a hand away from the front bumper and used it to take hold of his hooded cloak. Offering up a small prayer to any power out there that might take mercy on him and let him live through this, Mysterion unclasped the cape and released the cloth so that it covered up the car's windshield.

If he thought the attacker had been driving wildly before, he hadn't seen anything yet.

Completely blinded, the driver swerved all over the road, trying to get rid of the cloak that prevented him from seeing the road. Mysterion did whatever it took to hang on, already regretting the move because now it looked like certain death was inevitable.

Put on the brakes already! Were you trying to get both of them kill—

And that would be the street light pole crushing his skull open like an eggshell.

* * *

><p>Stan paused in what he was doing, staring straight into space.<p>

"Is something wrong?" Kyra asked.

"I don't know but I feel like someone just killed Kenny," Stan said.

* * *

><p>"You bastards!" Kyle's cry of despair rang throughout the town of South Park.<p>

* * *

><p>It was almost show time. Heidi had showed up but according to Wolf, she wasn't important. Something about her being as relevant as Newt Gingrich if Bonnie heard correctly.<p>

Well, Wolf seemed to know what he was doing so she had to trust him. Who else could she trust anyway? Brittany was trying to steal away any support she had in LESBIAN and there were still MUFFDIVER who would do anything to make her lose. And speaking of them, Wendy 2 hadn't shown up yet.

Chickening out, Wolf told her. Pay it no mind.

"Five minutes people!" a stage hand called out.

Alright, the time was at hand. It was time to—

"Sorry I'm late!" Wendy 2 announced as she barreled into the backstage, panting as if she had run a mile. "You won't believe the kind of traffic that was out there!"

"Great show of responsibility there, showing up now," Brittany said, looking her opponent up and down. "You have less than five minute before we go on."

"I'll be ready," Wendy 2 growled at her. "And I'm going to kick your asses out there."

"More like kissing it," Brittany countered. "Good thing I'm not a guy or you'd sexually harass me."

"Fuck. You," Wendy 2 spat.

"This is going to be so easy," Wolf murmured to her. "They're so busy tearing each other apart that you'll come out of this practically unscathed."

Bonnie nodded, agreeing with him more because she didn't know any better and Wolf had been so knowledgeable this far. All she needed to do was keep the spotlight on her and make sure that it remained that way.

* * *

><p>FOX<em> News presents the second 2012 South Park Prom Election debate. First we had the kings and now the queens! And we're not talking about the gay kind! It's the FOX network and we know your opinions better than you do because we're awesome like that!<em>

It was a similar set up from the Prom King debate, everything covered in the colors red, white, and blue as if you couldn't be patriotic enough. Six podiums stood out in the middle of the stage and the glare from the lights above was making it hard to see. No worries because the human eye would adjust to the brightness eventually.

Eventually.

"Welcome…to the second 2012 prom election debate of the month. I'm Megyn Kelly and this…_is_…the FOX News Network," the dazzling blonde hostess greeted, pausing and then emphasizing words periodically. "We have the six candidates for Prom Queen here for you tonight solet'sgetthisshowontheroad!

"On our far right we have MUFFDIVER candidate…Violet Robins, give her a hand people! To her left, the second MUFFDIVER candidate…Gwendolyn Ashley Long. To her _left_, LESBIAN candidate Brittany Love and next to her LESBIAN candidate Bonnie Synder. To her left, we have our only male prom queen candidate Kyle Broflovski…who I'm told…_hasn't bothered_…to show up. Forget about him now as we go to the last and independent candidate…Heidi Turner.

"Tonight…is an _important_ night. So listen up people as we let you andthefolksathome…get to know the candidates better tonight. Let's do this."

Applause from the audience but that was to be expected. If all the candidates up here were insectoid monster men being shown off for novelty and then one at a time let loose to devour the spectators, the audience would still applaud.

"Now let's go to the topic…that I say _everyone_ needs to know about. "Candidate Long, what's up with the sexual harassment?" Megyn Kelly asked, looking intently at her chosen victim.

"I'd like to take the time to say all those accusation are false," Gwendolyn declared. "I did not have sexual relations with that boy. It's an utter lie that I believe is being spread about by my opponents."

"That so? Candidate Synder, what's your take?" Megyn Kelly directed to the girl at the center left podium.

Bonnie seemed to freeze up as all attention was directed towards her. "I…uh…I think that Wen—I-I mean…what's her name should come clean with any sexual harassment she may be involved with and…um, for a special price, you can get a molester radar available at Black Market."

"Fascinating," Megyn Kelly said.

"I didn't do anything to anybody!" Gwendolyn exclaimed, glaring at Bonnie.

"But the poor boy sounded like he was going to cry at any second," Brittany drawled out.

"That was how the voice masker made him sound!" Gwendolyn argued. "And how do we know it was a boy anyway? It could have been a girl!"

"I'm sorry but does that mean you were that lesbian girl who raped Roxi?" Violet asked curiously.

"Violet!" Gwendolyn cried out, aghast.

"She does raise a good point. Are you…the _lesbian rapist_ that's _preying_…onthegirlsinthistown?" Megyn Kelly asked. "The people have a right to know!"

In her forgotten corner, Heidi Turner had her hand pressed against her face as if she couldn't believe they were even discussing this.

* * *

><p>It was keeping him up. Bain knew that there were <em>some<em> people who thought that he was the one responsible for attacking those lunatic girls and for a while, he hadn't cared. Doing something like that was something he'd do on an off day, for "shits and giggles" as they say.

But when that motherfucking asshole in his ridiculous costume breaks into _his_ room while he is trying to get some _rest_, the opinion was now getting his attention.

Bain was not the one attacking those girls; he'd remember doing something as fun as practically bashing a girl's brains out with a crowbar just as he would remember killing "Mysterion." Being falsely accused of something he was not responsible for rankled.

But he wasn't an impulsive person. At least not to the point where it was a defining character trait. He was patient, he thought things through, and most of all, he didn't do things at the spur of the moment without sound reason.

A good reason.

More like a selfish reason but a reason was a reason.

With that in mind, it was starting to become clear that he was going to have to start taking a bigger interest in just who was responsible for these attacks.

First of all, the attacks would have to be done by someone who had something to gain. Humans were more predictable than they thought they were and this attacker was just as human as the next one. So what would you gain from striking out the prom queen candidates and who stood to benefit most from it?

Other than limiting the competition if not taking it out completely, there was nothing to gain. If the reason was to eliminate the competition, the only person who stood to gain would be someone involved with the election, i.e. one of the candidates.

Were any of those candidates capable of such of thing?

The answer was obvious.

No.

They may be the most ineffectual, mind-blowing (not in the "good" way), sound-bite spewing, one brain cell between them, moronic, self-absorbed, and desperate grouping of people of all time…and Kyle, not one of them had the _guts_ to cross that line. The one important line that separated so-called humans from being normal and being monstrous. It was a line Bain had crossed a long time ago.

And none of that brain dead bunch, or Kyle, had it in them. None. …well maybe Kyle did. Dealing with his nemesis all the time like some masochistic idiot would warp your notions of what you were capable of given enough time.

But other than that outlier, Bain did not believe that any of those nitwits would stoop to using violence and especially not in the way it has currently manifested.

So then who else would want to do it? Who else had motivation to want to harm those girls and Kyle? Who else had a reason that would allow them to assault someone with a crowbar?

The best answer he could come up with why someone would want to do that would be to ruin prom somehow. But if that was the motivation, why attack the queen candidates and not the king candidates? Why attack the candidates at all? Why show your hand now and not until the very night of prom? No rational person with that kind of reason would do this.

Unless they weren't rational? Now there was a thought. What if the masked attacker was pathological? What if they had some irrational reason for wanting to attack the queen candidates and just the queen candidates? That was making some sense to them but then who around here was irrational enough…

That would be practically the whole town, wouldn't it?

Sigh…let's frame it this way. Who around here had irrational beliefs or views towards prom? Specifically, who would be so psychologically damaged that attacking this grouping of girls and Kyle would make some kind of sense in their mind? Who would be able to justify it and what reason would they use?

Hmm…

Oh. Oh no. That was rich. Too rich. Why hadn't he seen it before? It was obvious! Christ, he had been worried there for a minute! This was laughable, so very laughable.

He let out a chuckle to emphasize just how laughable the concept was.

Now it was making sense. So much sense. Hah…so what was he going to do about it? Was he going to continue to let this go on? Or should he let it run its course and meet it at the finish line?

What was he thinking? The answer on what he was going to do was answered before he had even asked it.

Let everyone trip over themselves, he would be there waiting for everyone to catch up.

* * *

><p>Kyle looked like he had been mauled by a wild animal…which wasn't too far from the truth. His jacket was ripped up, his pants had tears, and he had scratches littering his hands.<p>

He was miserable. That summed it all up in a nutshell. When he had managed to shove that monster of a dog away, he had run for his life. The dog had quickly caught up to him and that would explain why one of his pant legs was in tatters.

He managed to lose the beast but now he was on the outskirts of town, the school where the debate was being held on the other side.

He was going to have to walk all the way there…something that he was not looking forward to. But he continued on his trek, trudging back into town, looking as exhausted as he felt. He just wanted this horrible night to be over. He wanted to go home and curl up and just stay there for a year.

Turning his head slightly, he spotted a car, thankfully not the same one that had tried to run him over earlier, heading his way. This looked like a sign of hope if there was ever one. Tiredly, he extended his arm perpendicular with his body, stuck out his thumb and did one of the things his mother had told him never to do.

Hitchhiking.

The car was coming closer and closer and it didn't seem like it was slowing down. Kyle paid that no mind and kept his thumb up, waiting and waiting. The car was practically beside him and hadn't slowed down a mile, telling the poor Jew that this was one ride he was not going to get.

And then the car sped past, running through large puddle of melted snow that rested on the side of the road, and splashed him with muddy water.

Kyle blinked, water streaming down his face and no, they weren't tears. His eyes were perfectly dry, thank you, and from the look of things, they were the only things on him that were dry.

So now he was not only messed up and tired but soaking wet. At least it wasn't freezing out…yet. The last thing he needed was to be frozen alive.

With a sigh, he continued trudging.

* * *

><p>"This question is posed to Candidate Love," the female debate host announced. Brittany stood straighter, willing to show strength in what was looking like a brutal debate night. Already Wendy 2 had been torn a new one and Bonnie was doing all right. Nothing spectacular but the same could be said for Brittany.<p>

She was going to have to do or something that would make her stand out. Something that would show to everyone that she was the best person to be Prom Queen.

"Candidate Love, _what_…are you going to do about balancing the school budget?" Megyn Kelly asked.

Um…why did she have to get the hard questions? Couldn't it be something simpler like what should they replace the school colors of green and yellow with or how to promote job growth in this bad economy? Why'd she have to get the budget question?

"I think we should…cut some…um programs," Brittany answered, sounding hesitant. "I mean, do we really need detention? Or Saturday school? We should cut both those things because they don't do anything for students. And a third thing we should cut…um, we should cut…the third thing we should cut is…we should cut detention, Saturday school, and…uh…oops?"

"Aren't you guys putting too much into this?" Heidi demanded before anything could be made about this second "oops" gaffe. "This is Prom Queen! We don't have any say over the school budget! That's for, like, the principal or the superintendent, or the mayor! Can't we just focus on what it means to be Prom Queen?"

"Are you anti-establishment?" Megyn Kelly asked.

"Are you an anarchist?" Wendy 2 picked up. "Are you trying to interfere with the way we choose Prom Queens?"

"But we didn't have debates last year," Heidi pointed out.

"Just because you spend more time with Bebe doesn't mean you're her successor!" Wendy 2 slammed.

"This is a democratically elected position, not a monarchy," Bonnie added.

"You should be ashamed of yourself!" Brittany put in her two cents.

"Candidates! Candidates please!" Megyn Kelly tried to butt in. "Candidate Turner, are you trying to start _class warfare_?"

"What are you talking about? Class warfare?" Heidi looked at the blonde hostess in confusion.

"That's what I would like to know," Brittany piped up, beating Wendy 2 to the punch. She needed to make up some ground before she was left behind.

"Class warfare is scary but with the Black Market's class warfare bunker, you can outlast any break out of class warfare and it's at a bargain price," Bonnie advertised.

"Brilliant display of capitalism, you make your school proud," Megyn Kelly praised.

"Thanks FOX News lady," Bonnie said.

"Um…is it my turn?" Violet asked.

"Of _course_…you have a turn," the hostess said. "Candidate Robins…do you need a pillow? Do you _need_…to sit down? Are you _uncomfortable_?"

"Um…no…no…and no?" Violet squeaked out.

"Aren't you going easy on her?" Wendy 2 demanded.

"Were you going easy on that boy you harassed?" Brittany quipped, pleased with herself.

"That's…agoodquestion. _Were_…you going easy on that boy?" Megyn Kelly asked.

"For the love of!" Wendy 2 exclaimed.

* * *

><p>Well this was a sight.<p>

What was Roxi doing in her room? Again? Huh, something seemed…different about her. It was enough to deepen Mari's already existing frown. Anymore frowning and her face would become just one giant wrinkle. Not that Roxi would care about that.

"What are you still doing here?" she demanded bluntly, putting a hand on her hip and casting the image that she was being put upon.

Roxi just continued to lie on her bed, only grunting in reply. Damn it, what was it about her? What was so different about her other than this strange change in personality?

"Aren't you going out and doing your hero thing?" Mari snarked.

Roxi grunted again. Hey, she was stealing her schtick! "No."

Mari blinked at that. Was that…? Was that a verbal answer right there? "Come again?"

"I don't feel like it," Roxi grunted as she turned over on her side, her back towards Mari.

Don't feel…? Hey, then why was she on _her_ bed and not the one in her house? Did Roxi enjoy bugging the hell out of her or something?

"You don't feel like it. So why are you here? No, don't answer that, I feel like I'm just wasting brain cells," Mari said. When she got no reply, Mari narrowed her eyes and really took in Roxi, her posture, the way she was laying on a bed that didn't belong to her, everything.

You know, if Mari didn't know better, she'd say that Roxi looked depressed. Should she ask her about it? You know, to try and speed this up so she could use her own bed for once? And why couldn't she figure out another question so she could use the phrase "you know" in front of it one more time?

"Okay, I'll bite, what is it?" Mari questioned. "Is it your time of the month? Do you even get your periods? Why aren't you being happy-go-lucky and being a Debbie Downer and in my room all of a sudden? And why aren't you trying to come up with some new scheme to get that kiss thing you want? There, that's my concern quota for the day. Answer the damn questions and get the hell out of here."

"What's the point?" Roxi grumbled. Nothing after that. Oh, you were going to force her to try and pry every little sentence out of you, weren't you. Goddamn it!

"What's the point? What's the point of you pulling some emo shit in my room?" Mari retorted. "Go on, go out and do your superhero shit."

"Why should I?" Roxi groaned. "Why should I when nothing makes sense anymore?"

"Stop being melodramatic," Mari rolled her eyes. When Roxi said nothing, Mari was force to inquire, _again_, and move this thing along.

"What's the point in trying to do good when even the most…good of people do bad things like cheat on their boyfriends?" Roxi sighed.

Was this that Wendy shit? Was Roxi actually pulling the "dark revelation makes me question what I'm doing in trying to save people" crisis of faith that the comic books were fans of doing? The whole doubting my sacred mission spiel? Gawd, if Mari wanted to watch that, she'd watch _Spiderman 2_.

"You know what, let me save you some time," Mari said. "This is what's going to happen. You're going to mope around, think about giving up, then you're going to find some spark and then you'll be all sparkles and sunshine and want to get Mysterion to pay attention to you again. Get over it already, get over it in the next few seconds because I don't want to babysit you through your clinical depression. A'ight?"

"But why should I? If someone as good and pure as Wendy can do something so horrible, then why am I trying to save this town?" Roxi wailed. "Was Mysterion right about me? Am I doing this for myself? To be cool? Am I being selfish? This world is so dark…I wonder why he even does what he does! I'm so over my head!"

"Any moron could tell you were over your head," Mari grunted.

"I do more harm than good," Roxi sniffed. "And I think I get it now, what Mysterion was trying to tell me. I…I should leave behind the mask of the cat before I lose any more faith in humanity. I can't handle it, I can't! I'm…I'm not strong enough! When the p…the par…the really, really good people can do such evil things like cheat on the sacred girlfriend-boyfriend relationship, then what's the point in doing anything! What's the point!"

Someone get Mari a gun because it was time to take this whiny little bitch out back. Ol' Yeller style.

* * *

><p>Kyle was back in town. His legs were yelling at him to sit down, his body was shivering from the hints of chill in the air due to the wetness of his attire, and he just wanted to throw his hands up in the air and give up.<p>

He wasn't known for giving up but he wanted to do so right now. Seriously. Call it quits. Pull out the white flag. Tactical retreat. Call it what you will, it all meant the same thing.

Should he just say piss on it and not go to the school that was just on the other side of downtown? He had just reentered that part of town for the third time this night and home was just so much closer. Could he just say screw it and turn around now?

He wanted to so much…but he knew he couldn't. It was just another thing Cartman would rip on him for. Not that the fatass wouldn't rip on him for being late…how late was he now? He didn't have his watch on him but the fact the sun was long gone suggested that the debate was halfway done by now.

Should he go with the principle of the matter and show up? Should—

He heard a growl behind him and his body tensed up. Slowly, he looked behind him and saw that that Goddamn dog from earlier had found him…and he had brought some hungry friends with him. Somebody was still hungry around here and they was looking at the Jew like he was on the menu.

Fuck. Just fuck. It seemed like Murphy's fucking law was making a joke out of him. What else were you going to throw at him, huh? Would you not be satisfied unless he was dead? Was that it? Answer him, Goddamn you!

The dogs were starting to gang up on him, stalking towards him, a few licking their chops. Kyle, meanwhile, didn't have it in him to do anything. Go on, do what you were going to do. Piss on him if it made you feel any better. What you were going to do to him would be a cakewalk compared to whatever else was going to happen to him tonight.

The sidewalk before him cracked open and fire blasted out from the fissure. A massive roar blared and the dogs all went running for the hills, deciding that this pathetic specimen of a Jew wasn't worth it. Let what new terror have him, they'll be back for the scraps if there were any left.

Then the fire sank back into the ground and the large crack sealed up seamlessly until there was nothing there to suggest that it had ever been there.

Kyle recognized this work and he turned his whole body around to face the dark form of Damien, his unexpected savior. The Antichrist's eyes were glowing demonically, the only clue needed to know that he had just exercised some of his unholy power. The light dimmed and then it was just like looking at some ordinary person lit up by the crappy streetlight above.

"Kyle," Damien greeted him then frowned. "You look like you've been through hell."

Kyle only nodded at the assessment, no words needed.

"Want to go home?" Damien suggested.

Just what he needed to hear. "Ye-ee-ee-ee-ee-ee-essss," he let out in a sob, his body shaking with each syllable uttered.

Damien smiled gently and approached him. Stretching his arms out, he wrapped the Jew in an embrace and pulled him close, guiding the teen's head to rest on his shoulder, unmindful that his own clothing was going to be dirtied.

"It's all right now," Damien cooed. "You're safe. Nothing is going to hurt you."

In that moment, Kyle truly believed him. These were words he really needed to hear now, was desperate for. The fact he was hearing them from Damien was something that went over his head, deemed unimportant and ignored.

* * *

><p>"Last question Candidates!" Megyn Kelly announced. "Explain to this audience andtheviewersathome, <em>what<em>…makes you…the best person…to be Prom Queen. Candidate Long, how about you go first."

Gwendolyn broke off giving the evil eye to every person to her right to look the audience, and the cameras, dead in the eye. "Why wouldn't you vote for me? Other than being the hottest person here, I'm generous, I care about people less fortunate for me, I have…um, great tastes in music! Everybody, you know my name. You know me. Do you really think I would sexually harass someone? I mean, come on! South Park deserves a beautiful Prom Queen, one who stands out from the crowd and show that we here in South Park are better than average!"

Applause, naturally and Gwendolyn looked like she was soaking it in.

"How about you Candidate Robins?" Megyn Kelly turned towards the other MUFFDIVER candidate. "Why are you the best person…to vote for?"

Violet shifted uncomfortably behind her podium and anyone could see her biting her lip. "I…I don't know if I want to continue running," she said. "I…I-I think I want to stop."

The audience gasped. What was going on? Was Candidate Robins throwing in the towel?

"I don't want to run for Prom Queen anymore," Violet said, her voice growing stronger. "The others here are much better than I am."

"Are you saying you're…_quitting_…Candidate Robins?" Megyn Kelly asked.

"Yes," Violet swallowed. "I guess I am. I'm going to stop running."

"Well…you heard it here folks, Candidate Violet Robins has announced that she's _suspending_…her campaign," Megyn Kelly reported. "Truly, she is an example for us all. And…that's all the time we have."

"Hey wait a minute! What about us!" Brittany shouted.

"So sorry butwe'reoutoftime!" Megyn Kelly replied.

"Like hell!" Brittany snarled.

"Nobody wants to listen to your liberal lies!" Megyn Kelly declared. The blonde FOX hostess pulled out a can of mace and pointed it out the two LESBIAN and single independent candidates. "I have mace and I'm _not_…afraid to use it! America doesn't need to listen to you, _doesn't_ need you, so stop you're War on Christmas you _Communist scumbags_! Roger Ailes has spoken!"

_Kkkrrrrssssshhhhh!_

_This is FOX News! See Megyn Kelly Monday at 1 p.m. eastern, 11 a.m. mountain time! We're FOX News, America's number one station for election news and fair and balanced debates!_

* * *

><p>Disclaimer: I do not own Megyn Kelly.<p> 


	22. Sequel to the Big Date

Author's Note: Got an eight-way tie and two voters on the poll. Hoping to see that change. Which characters do you like the most? Who sticks out so much that you like them or hate to like them but like them anyway? Who's been more developed? All that and more and it's all done out of curiosity. It seems like I'm rushing with this chapter, to be honest. And I talking about in an overall story kind of way. Want to get this all over with so we'll be speeding through time with the next few chapters. A shame we're getting closer and closer to the end but an end is always inevitable, isn't it? Enjoy.

Disclaimer: I do not own South Park or the song _Loving You_.

Warning: language

Sequel to the Big Date

"I must say, I'm disappointed in you Kyle," Principal Victoria said. "I expected that out of all people, you would have obeyed the rules."

"M'kay, we're both very disappointed in you Kyle," Mr. Mackey added.

"For the record, I could care less," Bain said.

"We figured that but this is not about you, Mr. Cynis. This is about Kyle and his blatant disregard of Prom election rules," Principal Victoria lecture. "Kyle, do you have anything to say on your behalf before we make a decision?"

Kyle shook his head. "No ma'am." If his luck from last night was sticking to him, anything he could say in his defense would be treated as gospel and then he'd still be stuck in this stupid election. He was taking no chances, not this time.

"I'm sorry Kyle but I guess we'll have to take you off the ballot," Principal Victoria said with finality.

"I understand," he said quietly, fighting the urge to smile in triumph. Finally! The humiliation was coming to an end!

"Three in one night," Mr. Mackey sighed.

"Three sir?" Kyle asked, looking at the school counselor curiously.

"Yeah, Violet Robins announces last night that she's throwing in the towel, m'kay, gonna be a Loser Leslie, and then Heidi Turner got attacked in front of her house. She wouldn't have been attacked if she had been with people so we had to remove her too."

"I see," Kyle said softly, his brow knitting. Had he got off lucky that the attack on him hadn't been completely successful? Actually, no. Hindsight was always 20/20 and after the adventure he had last night, he would have chosen to be assaulted instead of wondering all over town and getting attacked by dogs.

"Goodness gracious, they're dropping like flies," Principal Victoria muttered.

"Is that all?" Bain asked cuttingly.

"Oh. Kyle, you're dismissed," Principal Victoria said.

Kyle nodded and said nothing to that. Not a moment later, he was leaving the office but guess who was there waiting for him.

"So it's over?" Damien asked. "You're out?"

"Yes," Kyle said. He had not forgotten just yet who was responsible for all this.

"A shame. I was really looking forward to you being up there with me," Damien said, his face a mask of contemplation.

"Damien, I don't want to talk about it," Kyle stated. "I'm just glad that this chapter of my life is over and that I can get back to more important things."

"Like your next date," Damien said.

"Right," Kyle agreed, the very definition of determination. He was going to make this one work this time. A simple dinner and a show. What could possibly go wrong with that? …take that question back. It was a stupid question.

"Why?" Damien asked. "Why put so much effort into something if you end up not enjoying it? If the payoff is scant then why force yourself to go through with these motions?"

"Because I won't know if I don't try," Kyle stated. "What do you care? Didn't you do the same thing before when you were taking me out?"

"But I enjoyed every second of it," Damien explained. "That was as much a surprise to me as it is to you. And that's why I continued to take you out, as you put it. Can you say the same thing about this Violet mortal?"

"I don't see what this has to do with anything," Kyle said, pointedly not looking at the devilspawn.

"I haven't heard you say you like her in _that_ way," Damien commented.

"This kind of thing doesn't just come out of nowhere, contrary to popular belief," Kyle spat. "It takes work. It—"

"Doesn't take as much effort as you're putting into it," Damien interrupted.

"Damien, you tried to make me choose between two guys that I see as close friends," Kyle said. "I don't want to go back to that. I don't want to be afraid that I'm going to do something that will piss you off. I'm not some slab of meet that you just pick and choose at some kind of butcher shop!"

"I don't know, that sounds somewhat like how Violet treats you," Damien said.

Kyle stopped in the tracks and turned to face the Antichrist. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Have you ever heard of a group called MUFFDIVER?" Damien asked in reply, looking straight ahead as if he could see something in the distance.

"Isn't that that political party some girls formed for this stupid election?" Kyle raised an eyebrow.

"As of now it is but I found something interesting about it," Damien said. "It was around before the election campaigning started. Aren't you curious about what it did before it got involved in politics?"

"Aren't you going to tell me what it did?" Kyle snarked.

"What do you think a group that calls itself the Many Unfortunate Females Focusing Deliberately and Intentionally Very Egotistical and Randy would do?" Damien asked rhetorically.

Kyle frowned and began repeating to himself, "Many Unfortunate Females…?"

"What you need to know is that Violet is a part of that group," Damien said. "You can ask her what it's all about."

"Many Unfortunate Females Focusing Deliciously…? That doesn't sound right," Kyle muttered to himself, continuing to try and puzzle out the secret meaning behind the words that spelt out MUFFDIVER.

So caught up in his deliberations, he didn't notice Damien smirk at him. "You're so cute when you're deep in thought," the Antichrist said before leaning over and pecking his lips against the tip of the redhead's nose.

That shocked Kyle out of his musings like a bucket of cold water. "What the hell Damien! We're in school!" he exclaimed as he rubbed at his nose with his sleeve.

"You're so self-conscious," Damien chuckled.

"You're so ignorant of public displays of affection!" Kyle shot back. "There's a time and place for those kinds of things and they aren't at school!"

So caught up in indignation, Kyle didn't notice how Damien smiled at the fact that Kyle hadn't outright said not to do those kinds of things at all. Perhaps there was hope for them yet.

* * *

><p>Sunny was surprised to find herself being dragged into the bathroom as soon as she entered school. It happened so fast that she hadn't been aware of who was dragging her until after the door was locked behind her.<p>

She was still unaware of who she was with when she spotted the urinals on the wall, a piece of information that told that she was in the boys' restroom.

And then Bain came into her line of sight.

"We have a change in plan," Bain stated. "Something has come up and some changes are required."

Sunny nodded, the very definition of patient.

So as Bain began to explain what was going on and what they were going to have to do to adapt to it, Sunny felt nothing but giddiness. No annoyance, no irritation, none of that even after everything she had done for him thus far gave her ample reason to be ticked off.

When you were working with an artist like this, one smart enough to recognize when third party factors affected your plans and you needed to bring in some change, you did what you were told in order to help bring their vision to life.

That and she idolized him so much that she was willing to be his welcome mat anytime.

* * *

><p>"Hey Lottery Ticket. How's it goin'?"<p>

Charlie looked Kenny up and down. "You look like shit."

"Yeah, don't want to talk about it," Kenny said, looking away from the girl.

"As long as it doesn't involve cat piss," Charlie agreed.

"Hey, I got over that stuff a long time ago. One week sober and everything!" Kenny declared.

Charlie raised an eyebrow. "One week?"

"Er—I mean one dec…ade?" Kenny rephrased. "I haven't done it since I was nine!"

Charlie gave him a look.

"Fine, thirteen…and once fourteen but I haven't done it since!" Kenny admitted.

Sighting, Charlie decided to get to the point. "What do you want?"

"What makes you think I want anything?" Kenny asked innocently.

Another look.

"Okay, fine, I was wondering if you've been checking up on your husband," Kenny said, giving up the pretense.

An eyebrow quirked. "He's not my husband," she stated.

"Then what are you?" Kenny wondered.

"If you figure it out, tell me," Charlie said. "Is that all?"

"You haven't answered my question," Kenny said.

"What do I look like, his keeper?" Charlie retorted.

Kenny looked to a side and scratched the back of his neck.

"You're a fucking asshole, you know that," Charlie growled.

"The keyword being fucking," Kenny agreed. "Now do you know what's going on with your—I mean Bain?"

"Why so curious?" Charlie asked. "And why do you want to know?"

"You haven't been spending much time with him, have you?" Kenny said more than asked.

"That obvious, eh?" Charlie shrugged. "He so busy with this prom crap…just want it to be over already."

"He's been keeping you out of the loop or something?" Kenny asked.

"He always tries to keep me out of the loop," Charlie snorted. "What's your point?"

"I'm just concerned," Kenny said.

"Concerned about what?" Charlie asked, looking at the blond pointedly.

"It's nothing," Kenny said quickly. "I'm just talking out of my ass. See ya around Lottery—ack!"

Charlie gripped the hood of his parka and jerked it backwards, preventing the McCormick boy from trying to make his escape as well as cutting him off midsentence.

"Hold on there, cowboy," Charlie said. "What's going on in that perverted head of yours? Why so interested in Bain all of a sudden? Let me rephrase that, why are you so concerned about Bain?"

"It's less about him and more about everyone else," Kenny admitted after a moment and when Charlie began to eye his neck contemplatively, almost like she was some kind of predator.

"You think he's going to try and hurt everybody again, don't you?" Charlie summed up.

"Am I that obvious?" Kenny chuckled nervously.

Not that she shouldn't have expected that but seriously. What more could be said about that? Nowadays, it seemed like whenever someone was worried about Bain, they came to her to see what was up. Like she was some all-knowing person that knew every move he was going to make and could tell them what to do. But she did know Bain better than anyone in school did. In fact, she may know him better than his own parents did.

She didn't know whether to laugh or pity that. And by pity, she meant herself.

And it was kinda sad, sad that she alone knew the inner workings of that sociopathic maniac.

"You're like a shy school girl wondering if the boy she likes is available," she deadpanned just for the sheer hell of it.

Was it her or did Kenny look a bit green at that?

"He's all yours Lottery Ticket," he said hastily. "But in all due seriousness, don't you think he's up to something? I mean, he never gets involved with anything at school and now he's head of prom committee? Something about that doesn't seem right."

Charlie stared at the blond with half-lidded eyes. "Where are you trying to go with this other than stating you think that Bain wants to ruin prom and is getting involved in the setup just to make it easier for him?

"I think you got it there in a nutshell," Kenny said.

"So what do you want me to do about it?" Charlie asked. "That is why you're over here talking to me?"

"Charlie, out of every single person in this school…you're the best person who can not only find out what he's doing but put a stop to it. So go do that action movie shit, have some big confrontation and epic fight scene, and then put him back in his doghouse like you always do."

"That would imply I have control over him," Charlie said. "It's not like he'll listen to anything I'll say but if it'll get you off my back, I'll look into it."

"Thank you Lottery Ticket," Kenny said, giving her a warm smile that had she been anyone else would have made her heart flutter. It was really too bad Kenny wasn't her type. "You have no idea how much it means for you to do that."

"Yeah, yeah, I'm a Good Sumerian, whoop-die-do," Charlie waved the matter aside. The things she had to go through just because she was with that asshole…

* * *

><p>Trust was a beautiful thing and an important part to any relationship.<p>

It was the building blocks, the very foundation on which two people could devote so much of their lives to and come out feeling so fulfilled.

But trust was a very fragile thing as well. Incredibly delicate to the point that a single tap could shatter it beyond repair. Once you lost it, you lost it. It was extremely difficult to build back and even then, there would always be doubts about if the other person was entirely trustworthy or should have that trust again.

It they could violate the sanctity of trust the first time, they could very well do it again.

This small variable that was one of many that established relationships was on the mind of Kyra McCloud as she kept her eyes firmly on the figure of Stan Marsh. For years she had crushed on him like any ordinary high school girl would with a boy that captivated their attention. And like any ordinary high school girl, she was shy about it, keeping it to herself and unlike an ordinary high school girl would take her frustrations out in a game of online multiplayer.

For who knew how long (2 years, seven months, eleven days), she had gone through that cycle? Watching Stan from afar, getting unbelievably nervous in his presence, not admitting to him or anyone her feelings, and then going home to snipe as many n00bs as possible while cursing her inability to tell this amazing boy that she liked him.

Then it all changed one day. She'd liked to say it was the day she met her now best friend Gary but really, it had come earlier now that she thought about it in retrospect. The day in question was the day she had witnesses all the kids in school picking on one of their shorter classmates who at the time had been under a bout of amnesia.

Disgusted at the treatment, she had eventually pulled away from the people she had considered friends and from there met up with Gary, offering to try and help the suffering boy out.

And it was Gary who helped her through her cycle of secret adoration and loathing, who taught her to be resilient and set your foot down when you needed to. To face the unexpected glob of vomit that came out of Stan's mouth and endure the undigested foods that got into places she didn't know she had.

It had all been worth it when Stan came up to her and asked her to be his girlfriend. She had said no initially but the school's quarterback was persistent. After weeks (about three months), she caved in and accepted.

But now, just barely over a month later, she was in doubt, her trust in Stan violated.

She had known that a relationship with Stan wasn't going to be easy but she hadn't known how much that was true. She hadn't known there were others out there licking at their chomps for Stan and desiring him as much as she did. She hadn't known how bold Wendy 2 was going to be when she came after Stan and made out with him.

It wasn't the fact that Wendy 2 had made out with Stan that bothered her. No, it was something else. What really bothered her was the fact that Stan had not said anything, had not come to her and told her what happened. He did eventually but that had been because Gary had caught Stan and Wendy 2 during one of these make-out sessions.

She did believe Stan when he said he hadn't wanted any of it but it hurt to know that he had tried to keep it a secret from her. It hurt that he couldn't trust her enough that she would be level-headed in such a situation.

Now, she didn't know whether she could trust him anymore.

If he was so afraid of coming to her and telling her these kinds of things then why should they stay with one another? He didn't trust her and that hurt the most.

So there he was in her sights, and he was smiling. Smiling like there was nothing wrong in the world and that everything was okay. How could he possibly do that and hide the fact that things were rocky now? How was he able to do that, to pretend like this?

For a moment, she felt caged. Was she setting herself up for a life of mistrust? A life that would be filled with paranoia and thoughts that wondered about what else Stan could be hiding? Is that what she was going to be looking at?

She was going to have to make a choice, she knew. It's just, what should she do? What _should_ she do? She could think out every possibility, contemplate every angle, or she could be impulsive and just choose one.

This was so stressful and that only piled on top of the fact that she had been in game mode for so long. It was stressful to be in game mode, you know. She was on alert, always searching for her enemy by picking up the smallest of movements, and whatever compassion she usually had was replaced with some kind of pleasure taken in the downfall of others. There was some German word for it but she couldn't recall it at the moment.

In short, it was a very unkind form of fight or flight. It wasn't something that was meant to be kept up for long amounts of time.

You know what, she was going to be impulsive now. If life was like a multiplayer, first-person shooter, then she would only make impulsive decisions. More often than not, she found, these kinds of decisions turned out for the best. By that logic, what she chose impulsively would be the best decision she could make.

Yet why did it feel so wrong?

"Stan?" she called out.

Those deep blue eyes of his were now on her and for a second, Kyra felt like that ordinary high school girl that was too shy to confess her feelings again. "Kyra?" he asked, smiling at her.

"Stan, I think we need to talk again," she said.

Was it her or did it look like Stan's face froze? Like all life in his face had come to some kind of screeching halt? "Um, okay," he said as he drew close to her. "What is it?"

She could hear the dread in his voice. If it was even more visible, she'd be able to see it.

"Stan, this is going to be hard for me to say," she said. "I like you, you know that, right?"

"I like you too," Stan said, somewhat uncertain as to where she was going with this. "What's this all about?"

"Stan…I think we need to have some space," Kyra struggled to get out but managed in the end.

Stan only stared at her.

"What does that mean?" he asked.

"It's like this, I need some time to myself so that I can…um…evaluate? Evaluate our relationship," Kyra began to explain, biting her lip when she had trouble coming up with the right word.

Stan had a distant look on his face and he seemed to stare past her, right over her shoulder it seemed. Then in a small voice, "Are…are you breaking up with me?"

Kyra sighed because even she didn't really know what she was doing. "It feels like things are too hot, I guess. Does that make sense? I think we need to cool off some and that would mean taking some time apart, I think. I just need some space, that's all. I mean, you kept all that stuff about Wendy 2 to yourself and you couldn't trust me enough to tell me about it."

"I…I didn't want to make you mad," Stan said, his eyes then refocusing on her. "Please don't do this Kyra! I'm sorry! I'm so, so sorry!"

"Stan, did you think there's not going to be times when I'm mad at you? That comes with being in a relationship!" Kyra admonished. "I mean, I'd be a bit peeved but if you told me sooner…but you didn't trust me Stan and that's what's important. You didn't trust me to be rational."

"But almost every girl I've been with has been irrational," Stan pointed out, wincing visibly as he realized he had just put his foot in his mouth. "I don't mean you," he said quickly.

"I know," Kyra sighed rubbing her eyes with one hand. "But Stan…I just need some space. I'm sorry it has to be like this."

She refused to open her eyes because she did not want to see the look of heartbreak that was on Stan's face.

* * *

><p>Bain stared the pair down.<p>

"What are you doing here?" he demanded.

"Kenny's being paranoid so drop all the cloak and dagger and shit and tell him what's going on," Charlie stated, looking bored and gazing with a little disdain at the members of the Prom committee who were watching them with uncertainty. What they were uncertain about was beyond her at this point.

Bain tilted his head to a side. "No outsiders. How do I know you both aren't here to find out where Prom is being held?"

"Why would that matter?" she asked.

"Because you might want to smuggle alcohol into the event and this year the school is taking it very seriously. There will be no booze this year," Bain stated.

"Aw, but it's practically tradition!" Kenny whined. Bain narrowed his eyes at the blond, fully aware that that was only an act. Okay, more like a partial act but the parka-clad teen had an ulterior motive.

It most likely had to do with certain "additions" to this year's prom. There was no way he could allow either of them to know what he was up to.

"Sorry," he sneered, "but committee members only. If you aren't on the committee, you aren't allowed to know the location."

"Can't you just do something to placate him?" Charlie demanded. "He won't stop bugging me."

"I can think of some things, yes," Bain hinted at, his hand reaching for Winslow's current location.

"Nothing that involves Winslow," Charlie added.

Damn.

"Rules are rules," Bain growled out. "Do I need to get the principal in here to reinforce that?"

"You know, we can just wait here until you leave and then follow," Kenny mentioned. "S'not hard to do a little hotwiring around here."

Bain narrowed his eyes at the pair. They were being so assertive, weren't they?

"Just let them come if they're so dead set on it," Wendy spoke up. "We could use some extra hands."

Undermining his authority, hmm? Bain eyed the female who had put up the most resistance so far. He could agree but then it would appear like the girl was trying to slip control out of his hands. Or he could refuse and continue arguing with Charlotte and McCormick here and just waste even more time.

Decisions, decisions.

"Get the masks," he ordered.

Charlie raised an eyebrow at him. "Masks?"

Bain merely smirked as a couple committee members pulled out black hoods, ones that were stereotypically involved with government kidnappings and whatnot. He could see the pair narrow their eyes at the sight.

"It's this way or no way," Bain said.

"Do we have to do this?" Wendy frowned. "Why not make them sign confidentiality agreements like you made the rest of us do?"

"First, do you really think these two would do anything they don't want to do?" Bain asked. "And second, do you think they care about being sued?"

Wendy gave their interlopers analyzing looks. "Huh."

Charlie rolled her eyes. "Christ."

"Don't say that Charlotte," Bain said as he plucked one of the hoods out of a committee member's hands. "He's not going to do you any good here." And then he was masking her sight with the black piece of cloth.

Amazingly, she let him do it.

Looking over to the McCormick boy, he grinned.

Copying Charlie from before, Kenny rolled his eyes. "This is fucking ridiculous."

* * *

><p>Charlie blinked through narrowed eyes as her hood was finally removed.<p>

She had no idea of how long she had that thing on and no clue as to where they were. After being masked, two committee members on either side of her had guided her to some kind of vehicle. Turned out that vehicle was a bus. She only knew that because she recognized the voice of the driver.

The infamous bus driver.

So yeah, the trip to wherever they were was a complete mystery. The bus driver's bad driving had made that an impossible task as there were a lot of missed turns and a couple times when he had backed up.

The sounds of other cars screeching to a halt or wrecking were unmistakable.

The hood hadn't been taken off when they had parked. Instead, she was guided again to the inside of a building that had carpeting on its floors or she assumed it was carpeting from how soft the floor became as well as the lack of squeaks her shoes would have made against tile. After coming to a stop, the hood was finally removed.

And now we're back to the present.

"What is all this?" she asked, taking note of the polished floor and the stage at one end of the expansive room.

"This is what you wanted to see, yes?" Bain asked pointedly.

Beside her, Kenny was blinking owlishly, taking in their new surroundings.

Streams of ribbons flowed over the upper parts of the walls and various parts of the ceiling, leaving openings for the fire sprinklers to unleash their emergency loads in case of a fire. Enormous curtains of a shimmering emerald green hue draped against the walls. Various tables were set up, most of which were loaded with all sorts of materials and supplies, a couple holding banners and had words sewn into them in a delicate script. On the stage, large golden curtains blended well with the majority green color scheme, not sticking out as much as plain green and yellow did.

It looked really elegant here, Charlie had to admit.

"Well?" Bain asked. "Do you see something that might, oh, I don't know, risk the safety of our peers? Any signs of some devious plans to make the big night a living hell?"

Jerked out of some kind of stupor, Kenny narrowed his eyes at the shorter teen. "I think I need some close-ups."

Snapping his fingers, summoning two committee members like they were some kind of servants, Bain ordered, "Make sure he doesn't find anything that will reveal the location of this place. Don't accept any bribes to bring in alcohol either."

"Why are you so hung up about that?" Kenny complained as he took his leave.

That just left her with the psychotic bastard. Great.

"You really have them wrapped around your fingers," she commented as she noticed committee members scurry to and fro.

"It's mostly through fear," Bain replied. Then directing his eyes fully onto her, he said, "Are you satisfied?"

"I was just along for the ride," Charlie shrugged, not wanting to admit that she had had some suspicions of her own. She still did but right now they just didn't seem as important.

"Isn't that how it always is? You're just along for the ride?" Bain said more than asked.

"If that's how you see it," Charlie grunted, looking away as she propped her ass against one of the table tops. It was then she spied a thick looking binder nearby. It kinda stuck out among all the crap around her, resting on the tables. A quick look to Bain told her that her worse half was not paying attention to her.

Curiosity sparking within her, she picked up the hard-cover folder up and opened it up. Papers, papers, and more papers. Why should she have expected mor—hold up, what was this? Were those pictures? Yeah, they were, they were pictures of what looked like this room but the colors were kind off. There was a sense of oldness to them.

And then something in one of them drew her attention and she began to grit her teeth.

"What is this?" she looked darkly up at Bain who, sensing the danger in her voice, turned to fully regard her.

"What is what?" he asked flatly.

Turning the binder around, she showed the photos to him. No further questions were needed.

"What do you want to know," Bain asked, sounding put upon.

"What are these?" she asked.

"I think it's obvious, they're pictures," Bain answered.

"What of?" she growled.

"A prom," Bain shrugged.

"When was it?" she pressed, trying to dig further.

"I'll just come out with it, it's your parents," Bain said.

Nothing else he could have said would have hit her any harder. What she had picked up on earlier had been a number, specifically the number than signified what year those photos had been taken.

She knew she had recognized it. She had hoped that it hadn't been what she had thought it was.

"Why?" her voiced cracked.

"A gift," Bain said and now he was the one looking away. "Unlike me, you love your parents. I…thought that bringing a little bit of them to this big night would have…tickled your fancy, I suppose. Prom is the night your mother was looking forward to, after your sweet sixteen naturally. Resurrecting the night they both met, it has that romantic feel, doesn't it?"

Christ, he really was a closet romantic underneath it all.

"This…this is…" She really couldn't find the words here. She didn't know whether this was sick or sweet or taunting or what! She…she didn't know what to think! What would possess him to do such a thing! Was he trying to taunt her! Is this some kind of sick joke or was he genuinely trying to touch her (not in that way you fucking perverts) through some misguided effort?

"Something wrong?" Bain raised an eyebrow at her as he commented. "You look like you need to sit down."

"I gotta get out of here," Charlie muttered, searching for the nearest exit.

"I have a feeling that I have committed some kind of mistake," Bain's frown deepened as he watched her behave like some kind of frantic animal. "What is it Charlotte?"

"Can I have some fresh air?" she snapped at him.

"And risk you learning about your current location?" Bain replied.

"Fuck secrecy!" Charlie retorted.

Bain grabbed her by her shoulder, something that was kinda awkward as he was several inches shorter than her. The action was tempting her to deck him as she was not in a friendly kind of mood anymore. She just needed out of this room!

"Come with me," Bain said simply.

She had an urge to smack his hand away and tell him to go fuck himself. She really did. But she allowed Bain to lead her away from…from this shit and out into a hallway. The carpeted floor returned, making her wonder where they really were. Bain glared out of nowhere but she could see that it wasn't directed at her but behind her.

A look over the shoulder showed a man in a suit backing away. Wonder who he was? For some reason, she had the feeling that the man in the suit was going to ask something, perhaps if they had everything they needed. Or maybe it was something else, she wouldn't know now that the man in the suit was retreating.

"We're out," Bain said simply.

"I need further away," she muttered at him.

"Sorry, but secrecy must be maintained," Bain stated. "As much as McCormick wants to play detective, he's not going to find anything. There's nothing to find."

"Why?" she asked, ignoring that barb at the blond.

"Pardon?" Bain blinked at her.

"Why are you going through all this?" she asked though it came out forcefully. "Why this set up? Why go through all this crap, setting Prom up somewhere else instead of keeping it at the gym where it'd be easier to get to? What's your fucking angle?"

"Charlotte, this has been something that has been in planning for a long time," Bain said. "It's been worked on since before you came back to this town. Your return has only brought some changes but in the end the results are going to remain the same."

"What are you saying? Quit with the Goddamn riddles," Charlie retorted.

"It'll all become clear on the big night," Bain said. "Until then, you will have to bungle around in the dark with the rest of the dumbasses."

* * *

><p>Kyle took in a deep breath and then looked through the driver side window to gaze at Violet's house. Tonight was date night: the sequel. Were things going to end disastrously as they did with the first one? Or would they finally, <em>finally<em> work out this time around?

In his gut, he had a feeling that it was going to be another disaster but damn it, he was not going to give up.

He was going to take this as far as it could go and until then, he would not concede defeat.

Violet's front door opened and he could see the girl herself coming out, lips curved into a toothless smile. Kyle smiled back and honked the horn playfully, hoping that it didn't give the impression that they were in a hurry. It was still early in the evening and the show they were going to didn't start until 8:15. Plenty of time to get something decent to eat.

"Hey Kyle," Violet greeted as she got into the passenger seat.

"Hey," Kyle said back as he put the car into gear. "How's it going?"

"Pretty well, I am going on a date tonight," Violet giggled happily.

"You sure are," Kyle agreed, turning away from the girl and towards the windshield.

"So what are we going to do tonight?" Violet asked.

"Well, thought we'd try something different this time," Kyle said. "Have you seen _The Five-Year Engagement_ before?"

* * *

><p>In a car that was following them, the usual suspects of MUFFDIVER kept vigil on the couple.<p>

"What's it sounding like this time? Another romp at the carnival?" a battered Ella asked. There was still some bruising on her but she had taken worse beatings before. Plus she healed quickly which was why she was out of the hospital.

"Sounds like an Operation Alpha," a MUFFDIVER in the back seat reported, listening through a headset that was linked to an audio receiver that was planted onto Violet. The wonders of technology and their applications.

Gwendolyn grunted. "Dinner and a show," she commented. "Do you know which one?"

"Got some static at that part. Something about the number five," was the reply.

"We'll work it out when we get there," Ella decided. "Let's go."

* * *

><p>Unlike the carnival where there was so much going on that there wasn't much opportunity to talk, the karaoke bar that Kyle had once had a basket of onion rings at and had thought it would be a change of pace from the usual Italian restaurant had a lot of time with which nothing was going on.<p>

That meant there was more opportunity to talk despite the fact there was this annoying noise in the background. Now while Kyle could get it on with his friends and those close to him, when it came to times where he was sitting across from a person he was wining and dining, he found his usual friendliness was absent. Natalie Portman was a prime example. And it was starting to look like Violet was becoming another.

He just didn't know how to talk with her! From just asking her what she liked to do, he found that she was a very social person and activities that let others participate with you were things she liked the most. He really couldn't get into roller blading, drawings were meh to him and he didn't doodle, family he could get behind but his relationships with his parents weren't as tight as hers. Damn he was awkward with this. She was a really nice girl! It's just…he was more of a computer guy. Technology, a little politics here and there though not to the extent of Ike, basketball, that was the stuff he liked.

Violet wasn't a big basketball player. He figured that it was because she wasn't a naturally competitive person. Somewhat unlike him who had lived with competition. Competition from others for better grades, competitions with Cartman where less was said the better, and competing for parental attention at times when his parents were suddenly real doting on Ike.

What was he doing? He was looking at their differences! He should be looking at their similarities. They were bound to have something in common, this girl and he. Maybe they were both annoyed by that annoying sound? It kept changing a lot and there was music that didn't sound quite right.

They both liked having fun, with or without friends…yeah, let's ask about her friends.

"Um, who do you hang out with, you know, when you're not with me or your family?" he asked, somewhat uneasily.

"Girls a lot," Violet answered, her eyes drifting upwards as she gave some thought to his question. "I spend a lot of time with Ella. She's fun and doesn't look at me strange when I talk. Hey, did you know she's a boxing champion? She can kick butt! And then there's Gwendolyn. She's so into Stan, you know, and I think she _like_ likes him."

"You don't say," Kyle said dully, listening but not really at the same time. Thinking for a sec, he asked, "Do you belong to any clubs or groups? After school stuff?"

"Well, me, Ella, and Gwendolyn are a part of this group with some other girls," Violet said.

"What do you do?" Kyle asked for the sake of keeping the conversation going. He wondered if they went roller blading with one another. If they did, he'd have to change the subject because he really wasn't that interested in that kind of stuff. He had some traumatic experience had a roller disco once some years ago and no he didn't want to talk about it.

"Well, we…get together and hang out, talk about boys," Violet answered and if Kyle didn't know better, he would have sworn that she was watching her words right there. Huh.

"You just talk about boys, eh?" he commented. "Do you guys do anything else?"

"Not really," Violet said.

"Is…there anything you call yourselves?" Kyle asked. "Or is it just 'the group'?"

"Well, Gwendolyn called it Many Unfortunate Females Focusing Deliberately and Intentionally Very Egotistical and Randy. The rest of us call it MUFFDIVER for short," Violet answered.

* * *

><p>At another table, a few girls were panicking.<p>

"Oh shit, oh shit!" Gwendolyn was hissing as she listened in through a headset. "She's babbling too much! Interception! We need interception now!"

"Where's a freakin' waiter when you need one?" Ella swore.

"Abort mission! Abort!" a fellow MUFFDIVER exclaimed.

"No abort! No one's no aborting here!" Gwendolyn declared.

From the next table, a scruffy-looking redneck agreed with her statement. "Damn right! Shoulda kept yer legs closed in the first place. God's way of teachin' ya a lesson!"

He was ignored by the panicking girls.

* * *

><p>Something about what Violet was saying sounded familiar. "Could you repeat that?" he asked. "You call yourselves what?"<p>

"MUFFDIVER," Violent repeated for him cheerfully. "We're a bunch of unfortunate girls who are purposely and intentionally proud and very randy. We also support Prom Queen candidates."

"Oh, so this is kind of a political party," Kyle said, relaxing a bit. Still, something about that group name was bugging him and for some reason he kept thinking about Damien.

"I guess," Violet agreed.

Before either of them could say anything more, there was a loud screech, a sound that both recognized as belonging to a microphone. Well, this was a karaoke bar and now he figured out what that noise that had been playing throughout the entire time they were here. People doing karaoke and singing badly. Now it was making sense.

"Hey, I'm going to go up there," Violet said and flashed him a quick smile. Emphasis on quick because for a second Kyle felt like someone had taken a picture of him. "I just _love_ to sing."

"Go for it," Kyle said.

And then she was up and heading towards the stage. Hmm, why did he suddenly feel like he should be running for the hills?

A couple of songs later, one of which was pretty good, Violet was finally up. She was brimming with energy and looked excited. From where she stood in front of the microphone, she was looking directly at him. Was she going to sing one of those love songs or something? And why was his danger sense increasing in alarm? He gave her a thumbs up nonetheless, a sign of "good luck."

The karaoke machine began playing and Kyle recognized the music belonging to that one song, _Loving You_. Didn't know who sang the thing but he did know that whoever did had quite a vocal range, especially since they could reach a high F.

Then Violet opened her mouth and began to sing.

"Loving you is easy 'cause you're beautiful," Violet sang and Kyle was gritting his teeth. No it wasn't because she was a girl that was pointedly singing this particular song for him. His masculinity had taken much harder blows than that. No, it was the reason why his danger senses had been going off since she first left her seat.

Violet…was a _terrible_ singer.

Her singing voice was so high pitched and it cracked oh so much. Oh Jehovah, were his ears bleeding?

"…and everything I do is out of loving you," Violet continued to sing, oblivious to how practically everyone in the building was cringing. "La la la la la…" Okay that was getting a bit bettering. Noting but a few strings of la's there. "…do do do doo, ahhhhhhhh!"

The glass which held his beverage, an agnostic Dr. Pepper at last check, cracked. Kyle stared in fascination at the small cracks that spider webbed all around the glass container.

Wow, he hadn't known she could do that. His stupor soon turned to horror as he realized that she hadn't even reached the high F yet. If she could do this just at a normal range…

"Do do do doo, ahhhhhhhh!"

The glass shattered, spilling Dr. Pepper all over the table.

Oh shit. Oh Shit! He had to stop her! Stop her before it was too late!

"Stay with me while we grow old and we will live each day in springtime…"

He was out of his chair and starting to maneuver around the other tables and patrons who were covering their ears in agony. Those poor fools, they had yet to realize just how much danger they were in.

"Violet!" he cried out as loud as he could but was drowned out by how loud the karaoke machine was. "Stop!"

"'Cause loving you is easy 'cause your beautiful and every day of my life is filled with loving you."

"No! Don't!" Kyle continued to scream, looking straight at the girl. A misstep had him tripping and falling against a table, knocking forgotten meals off onto the floor.

"…and every time that we, ohhh… I'm more in love with you…" Violet trailed off then picked up with the la's again. "La la la la la, la la la la la…"

"Don't do it!" Kyle yelled. "Don't sing it!"

"Do do do doo…"

"NO!"

Violet hit the high F…

Every glass in the building shattered, including the bottles of alcohol behind the bar. Light bulbs cracked and exploded. The karaoke machine itself began sparking. Some of these sparks landed on some spilled alcohol and the liquid caught on fire, the flames following the trails of liquid back to the bar.

And everything went to hell.

* * *

><p>Looking at the smoking husk of a building, Marcus commented, "Do you think it was arson?"<p>

"Totally," Barbrady agreed. "Owner's probably so deep in debt that he had to burn the place down."

"With the customers still inside?" Marcus asked.

"Makes it look good," Barbrady replied. "You gotta be sharp Marty—"

"Marcus," Marcus corrected.

"—or crooks like these will slip under your radar," Barbrady continued. "What's this world coming to when blue-collar crime is not enough to get by?"

* * *

><p>Even though medical attention would have been the smart thing, Kyle was determined to end this date on a positive note.<p>

They were at the theater and the nasally asshole who manned the ticket booth was his usual asshole self. Something about all the soot meaning that he might be some kind of terrorist. A little Jersey attitude got them passed him and now they were busy watching two relatively unknown actors in a recently made rom-com about a five-year engagement.

He was so exhausted by the bar fire that he really wasn't into the movie but damn it all, it was the principal that mattered. They were going to have dinner and a show and by God, Jehovah, Allah, and whatever other higher powers were up there, they were going to eat and see a Goddamn movie!

Violet giggled beside him at something that happened but really, he wasn't paying attention.

Damn it Kyle! Stop sabotaging your own date! There was no Cartman here, no political terrorists, no nothing to ruin this! Sigh, so why were you doing it yourself. Get over it already, relax, and enjoy. A simple equation that even Tweek could do.

"Ack! This is too much pressure!" a familiar voice a few rows down cried out and a messy-haired figure darkened by the theater's lack of lights darted out the nearest exit.

Kyle rested his head back and sighed. At least it seemed the worst was over.

* * *

><p>Indeed, it seemed the worst was over.<p>

"You know, tonight wasn't as bad as the last one," Ella commented, wincing when she accidently pressed a recently received bruise.

"You don't call that bar blowing up bad?" Gwendolyn muttered darkly.

"Well, Cartman and Damien weren't there to ruin it this time," Ella pointed out. "But next time, let's be sure that she doesn't get up and sing."

"Like there will be a next time," Gwendolyn snorted.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Ella frowned.

"I done with the babysitter service," Gwendolyn said. "MUFFDIVER has had its first success; we've gotten Violet and Kyle together. Let's hook someone else up now before LESBIAN manages to."

"Are you thinking of you and Stan?" Ella asked.

"And taking care of those sexual harassment charges,' Gwendolyn growled. "The Prom election is going to be my best bet. If Stan and I get elected, that'll be like we're getting engaged. Whoever is King and Queen are going to get married."

"But they aren't going to reveal who won until Prom," Ella said.

"Perfectly romantic," Gwendolyn said. "It'll be the start of our new lives."

"And what about the meantime?" Ella asked.

"I don't know," Gwendolyn shrugged.

"What about me and Clyde?" Ella growled.

"What about you and Clyde?" Gwendolyn asked.

Ella narrowed her eyes at the leader of MUFFDIVER but said nothing, preferring to look away and crossing her arms over his chest.

* * *

><p>"I really had a good time," Violet said as they pulled up into her driveway. "That fire didn't spoil anything."<p>

"Really?" Kyle asked, trying to hide his skepticism. He shouldn't go to restaurants on dates anymore; they had the tendency to blow up for some reason.

"We have to do this again," Violet said. "It was so exciting and fun, like the carnival. It's going to make the next one harder to outdo."

"Certainly," Kyle agreed for the sake of agreeing because what could you say to that? "I'll try to come up with something sensational."

"I'll hold you to that Kyle," Violet promised.

The two fell into a silence and Kyle found himself staring at the girl. Could he say something else? Or had enough been said? If that was the case, then was the date over? And if it was over, then that would mean…

Kyle swallowed. Was he getting ahead of himself? Whoa there, Violet was leaning a bit towards him. Did that mean that she wanted…? Was this the big moment? He leaned forward a bit himself, as if testing the waters and—she was leaning closer! The inches were being covered as the two drew closer and closer to one another and then…it happened.

The one moment romanticized to the point that it could only be summed up in two words.

The Kiss.

And just as quickly as it started, it was over and Violet was getting out of the car. Kyle blinked dumbly, trying to figure out just what had happened. It was like their lips had brushed against each other, so soft against one another, and then air was separating them.

"See you tomorrow?" Violet asked shyly as she looked at him from under her bangs.

"Sure," he swallowed, saying the first thing that came to mind.

Violet giggled at him then shut the door and finally, _finally_, the Jew was alone.

Wow.

What a night.

Waiting until he saw Violet enter her house, Kyle sighed one more time and started backing out of the driveway. Time to go home. Get some rest. Put some aloe on his burns. Maybe watch some TV or surf the net. Update his Facebook. So much he could do and what seemed like all the time in the world to do it in.

A car passed by him, going in the opposite direction. Normally that wouldn't mean anything except he recognized two girls in the front passenger seats. Wendy 2—er, Gwendolyn and Ella. Two of Violet's friends. Two of Violet's friends who were part of a group called MUFFDIVER.

A group called MUFFDIVER that Damien told him about this morning. MUFFDIVER, a group of girls that reportedly got together to talk about guys. But these were girls who lived in South Park, a place where you didn't just do mundane things mundanely. You did them extremely.

What hadn't Violet told him about this group? He had a gut feeling that there was more to it than just getting together and talking about guys. Why would two MUFFDIVERs be in the same neighborhood on the same night as a date between another MUFFDIVER with a guy? It could be innocent but this was South Park, the town where mountains were made out of molehills.

After tonight, he was going to trust his gut and look in on this more.


	23. The Moment of Truth

Author's Note: Important author's note at the bottom. Please send me some kind of answer or response. Anyway, things are really winding down. A handful of chapters left though I won't say how many just yet. Even I don't know how many are left. However, insanity levels should be rising pretty quickly. But isn't that always the way in South Park? Enjoy.

Disclaimer: I do not own South Park or Air Supply's _All Out of Love_.

Warning: language

The Moment of Truth

"_Welcome _back_ to American Live, I'm…Megyn Kelly. Today's the big day for South Park High School as the much anticipated Prom elections take place. For more we go to Trace Gallagher. Trace?"_

"_Thanks Megyn. As you just said, today's the big day in South Park. Seniors all over the school from the east side of the campus to the west side will be voting today on who they want for Prom Queen and Prom King. You can feel it in the air, it's literally charge with anticipation."_

"_So how's this thing…goingtogodown, Trace?"_

"_Each Senior is going to be given one of these ballots, I'm holding one in my hand right here. On the left side are the names of Prom King candidates and on the right the Prom Queen candidates. As you can see Megyn, the queen candidates have been winnowed down quite a bit. Now when they get one of these ballots, they are going to put one check mark on the left side for their choice of Prom King and then they are going to put one check mark on the right side for Prom Queen._

"_Now, the big question everyone is asking here is who are the high school seniors going to elect? The polls show that Bonnie Snyder has a commendable lead over her rivals Brittany Love and Gwendolyn Love in the race for the Prom Queen crown. As for Prom King, it is a close race between Kenny McCormick, Eric Cartman, and Stan Marsh. So who's going to win that one is anyone's guess._

"_However, that's not stopping any of the candidates from doing some last minute campaigning. The Cartman camp is making a big push this morning, offering a light breakfast to anyone passing by. The McCormick camp is already condemning that as a ploy to bribe voters though what they have against a nutritional breakfast, I have no idea."_

"_I see you're holding a muffin there Trace."_

"_Just one of many choices you can get from the Cartman campaign's breakfast booth, all foods sold from the Black Market where bargains are to be found. For some reason, I have the sudden urge to vote for Eric Cartman. If I was able to vote in this election, that's who I would vote for."_

"_Taking one for the team?"_

"_Is it me Megyn or are you wearing new makeup? Why does your face say 'Vote Eric Cartman'?"_

"_Ehh, outoftime Trace, we need to go to a commercial break."_

* * *

><p>"Ay! What's the meaning of all this!" Cartman demanded as various faculty members were closing down his breakfast booth.<p>

"Sorry Eric but we got reports of psychotropic hallucinogens in your muffins and breakfast tacos, m'kay," Mackey apologized.

"Those are outright lies! I would never do something so underhanded!" Cartman defended.

The two paused as Butters passed by with a breakfast taco in his hands, his pupils' dilated as he slurred, "Muuuussssst vooooootteeeee fooorrr Errrrrrric Caaarrrrrrtmaaaaaan…"

Mackey gave Cartman a pointed look.

"I have no idea why he's acting like that," Cartman excused civilly.

"M'kay, we're going to have to confiscate these and test them for anything funny," Mackey said.

* * *

><p>Despite all the anticipation, the actual ballots were not handed out until later in the afternoon, sixth period to be precise. This was done on purpose to make sure everyone was sober and not under some kind of hypnotic drugs that might cause unspecified influence.<p>

"Why the hell is everyone looking at me?" a belligerent Cartman demanded.

Here was the moment, the moment that everything had been building up to. All the chaos, all the insanity, all the politics that came with chaos and insanity, and it had come to this very moment.

It was time to choose.

Some had already come a decision on who they were going to vote for.

Wendy Testaburger was one such person and without much thought, she put a check down on Stan and Brittany. Stan was kinda a given because she was still feeling guilty over her last break up with him and felt that he deserved some kind of happiness. Brittany was done at random but one person Wendy wasn't going to vote for was Gwendolyn. While also feeling guilty that Wendy 2 got caught up in her and Stan's issues, anyone who sexually harassed another could not be given a free pass regardless of gender.

Craig was another who had made up his mind. It was simple really; he was voting for Clyde and Bonnie. Clyde because he wasn't going to be a dick and vote for himself and Bonnie because she looked like a sweet girl. He also didn't like the other four candidates, Stan, Cartman, and Kenny for obvious reasons and Damien because that kid freaked him out a bit on the inside. Clyde and Bonnie was a simple and boring choice for him. Just the way he liked it.

Gwendolyn had also made up her mind. She was voting for Stan and herself. She was one more step closer to reaching her goal!

Cartman…did anything else need to be said? Cartman and Gwendolyn. Gwendolyn because she looked better than the other two and himself because who else was better suited for the position of Prom King? It was freaking obvious. Too bad Brianna had chosen not to run; she should feel lucky that once he received the crown, his first order would be to make her Prom Queen just to show everyone just how much power he had.

While those individuals had an easy time and were quick to check off names, others were having a bit of difficulty.

Kenny was one of those. While he should check his own name and make sure that no one else got that vote, he wasn't that much of an asshole. Voting for yourself just seemed like a real dick move and unsportsmanlike. But who else should he vote for? Well, it wasn't as pressing a question there, Stan the Man was getting that. Prom Queen, he was stuck on. Bonnie or Brittany? Which of those two should he vote for? The instructions were to vote for only one person so he couldn't check both of them and invalidate his vote. Lucky for him, he had a quarter on him so why not leave it up for chance? Since it was all in alphabetical order, heads Bonnie, tails Brittany. Flip. Bonnie it was.

Kyra was biting her lip. The split was still so recent and while she had already checked Stan's name, there was still the Queen vote. Who would it be? She wasn't voting for Gwendolyn because she still had that uncharacteristic grudge against her. Maybe she should have run? No, she wasn't into this kind of stuff. With a sign, she checked Bonnie and that was only because she had once hung out with the girl when she was still good friends with Bebe.

Gary was kinda in the same boat as Kyra. He too had checked Stan's name but then there was the Queen left. Who should it be? Obviously not Gwendolyn. Not after he had gotten himself involved with spreading those sexual harassment stories. A bit of a shadow of shame there as he felt a bit guilty of besmirching the girl's name. Well, might as well just check on. Brittany it would be.

While having some trouble with the previously mentioned, they still managed to fill out their ballots quickly. Others however, were having a much difficult time doing even one.

Rory was one of those. There were two LESBIANs on the Queen ballot and she couldn't choose between them. Meanwhile, on the King ballot she so wanted to check Craig's name but what if it was her vote that made him win? Then when either Brittany or Bonnie won, they would have to marry him and forever end any chance of getting him! But if she voted for Kenny, then she would be betraying Craig and somehow he would find out and hate her forever! Oh God! Then she would end up as some kind of crack whore and have to suck someone's penis for a living! She couldn't take it! She ran out of the room dramatically, leaving her vote unmarked.

Tweek…just too much pressure. Enough said.

Kyle didn't really care about who was Queen yet couldn't decide on who to mark on that side. The King however was another matter entirely. Yes, he was part of Kenny's campaign but he still felt a lot of loyalty towards Stan. He was his best friend for Jehovah's sake! His best friend out of his best friends even! A kind of…super…best friend? Wow, that sounded gay even in his own head. Okay Kyle, you didn't have a lot of time here, which do you pick? Um…eeny meny miny moe? Catch a tiger by his toe… Well, eeny meny miny moe had chosen. Stan it was. Now for the Queen…

Then there were those who didn't really care in the first place.

Ella was one of those. Without really reading, she checked off Stan and Gwendolyn because that was the party ticket, wasn't it?

Stan was too depressed to do much but sigh at his own name and tap the piece of paper with the lead end of his mechanical pencil. He didn't care about voting. What did it matter? Kyra was leaving him it looked like, just like Wendy. He sighed loudly but made no other move to fill out his vote. It just wasn't important anymore. It didn't matter if he lost to Kenny or Cartman or came in last place even. What was the point of it all? What was the point?

Brianna had barely a passing interest. She checked a couple of names randomly, didn't care who it was for and turned the piece of paper over so she wouldn't have to look at it. That was a common reaction among many of the students, the Goths included though they would claim that they did it first before all the conformists followed their lead.

One by one, though in some cases not, the ballots were filled out and turned in, the votes themselves being secured in a large lock box and taken away where they would be counter up.

Just like that, it was all over. The largest chapter of this story was now over and all that remained was the waiting.

Who would win and who would lose? The question that was on the forefront of a few people's minds. On Prom night, it would all be revealed but until then they would remain in the dark.

* * *

><p>Cartman, however, was too impatient to wait.<p>

That was the big reason why he had summoned some associates into his basement for an emergency meeting.

"Am I still supposed to be guarding you?" Jake asked, still in his Kevin Costner Bodyguard outfit. "Isn't the election over?"

"Jake? Shut your fucking mouth, I need you for one more thing," Cartman stated, looking over at Butters who he had shanghaied for one more scheme. "I need to find out if I won or not, though I think it's very obvious that I did."

"I don't know Eric, this might be very dangerous," Butters said, rubbing his knuckles against one another as was his nervous tic. "Can't we wait until Prom like everyone else?"

"Hah! That's funny Butters. You ought to be a comedian," Cartman chuckled. Then getting serious, "I can't wait until Prom. It's like…it's like waiting for the newest gaming console to come out when you know the date when it's coming out. The waiting eats you alive inside and drives you insane. I know."

"But can't you just freeze yourself again so you won't have to wait?" Butters asked.

"Have you forget where I am? As if!" Cartman snorted.

"But what if somebody in the far future finds you and thaws you out? Seeing the future, that'd be amazing," Jake said.

"You just want to see if gays can marry in the future, you homo," Cartman spat.

"Fuck you, I'm not gay!" Jake yelled back.

"Right, right, whatever, now listen up," Cartman said dismissively. "I managed to get a lot of intel on where they're keeping the votes." He unfolded a large blueprint of the school, placing it on the table that separated the three boys from one another.

"Where'd you get that and how much did it set you back?" Jake wondered.

"Trade secrets," Cartman smirked at his sexually confused bodyguard. However, before he could say anymore, the door to the basement opened and Liane Cartman's voice called down.

"Poopsykins? I'm running over to the store. Is there anything I can get for you?"

Sighing, Cartman asked, "Is there anything you gentlemen want in the way of snacks? Beverages?"

"I'm fine," Butters said happily.

"I could go for—" Jake began to say.

"We're fine!" Cartman called back up to his mother, interrupting Jake. "Oh, but if you can pick up some Cheezy Poofs? We're almost out?"

"Bulk load?" his mother asked.

"That's good," Cartman agreed and waited for his mother to close the door behind her as she damn well knew to do. She did.

With the door closed, Cartman proceeded to ignore Jake's scowl as he began to outline his plan.

"Okay cockfags, this is how it's going to work out," he declared. "The ballot box is kept here, in the teacher's lounge," he placed a finger on the designated room. "The security is tight. The room has a security system that's activated with a code, one that changes every hour. After that, the room is rigged with motion sensors so sensitive, you can only move one centimeter a second."

"What's a centimeter?" Jake asked, blinking in confusion.

"Heck if I know; the asshole who programmed the system used the metric system," Cartman grumbled.

"Bastard," Jake said.

"But that's not the worst part. The room itself has _security cameras_," Cartman continued with his explanation, placing an emphasis on the last two words as if the term had some kind of ominous significance. "They're devices left over from the time of our late and dear principal, Ernesto Estrada. He liked watching the lady teachers in there, hoping that he might get a casual strip tease out of them. So those damn things are in there, along with heat sensors that are program to recognize anything over room temperature."

"What's room temperature?" Jake asked, again interrupting Cartman's lecture.

"That's 72 degrees Fahrenheit," Butters said.

"72 degrees Fahrenheit," Cartman repeated for Jake's sake. "And the human body is 98.6 degrees Fahrenheit. See the problem?"

"Damn," Jake said in wonder.

"How are we going to get passed that system?" Butters asked.

"Simple, we're going to raise the temperature of the room," Cartman smirked.

"Say, this kinda sounds like that movie _Sneakers_," Butters said.

Cartman gave Butters a look. "This isn't like _Sneakers_, Butters."

"But it sounds like the bad guy's office at the end," Butters argued. "Robert Redford has to get all sweaty."

"Gawd, would you shut the hell up?" Cartman snapped. "This…this is more like _Ocean's 11_, you geniuses, and not _Sneakers_!"

"If you say so; I've never watched _Sneakers_," Jake said.

"Wow, you're missing out on a lot!" Butters said.

"Enough with Goddamn _Sneakers_!" Cartman interrupted the banter. "We need to focus here! What we're going to have to do is sneak into the school in our sneakers where we're going to have to sneak pass the security system that wetback Estrada left behind, sneak past the door then slowly sneak through a room with highly sensitive motion sensors while sneaking through the heat sensors that will be distracted by a 98.6 degree room temperature so that we can sneak up to the ballot box and find out just who won the election!"

"That's a lot of sneaking," Jake commented.

"Yeah, I know!" Cartman said.

"But Eric, who's going to be doing all the sneaking?" Butters asked innocently.

"The best man for the job Butters," Cartman answered, giving the blond a knowing look. "The best man for the job."

* * *

><p>The clinking of silverware with dishes was the only sound at the dining table as the three members of a family of four accompanied by a non-related fourth engaged with eating their dinners in relative silence.<p>

One of those three, Bain, was pointedly ignoring the other three, who consisted of his parents and his sister's tool Marcus. He just wanted to get this over with so he could go back to doing something important. He had calculations to run, schemes to plot, figuring out what circumstances would be best to approach Charlotte with so he could possibly have a chance of getting a happy ending, so to speak. Little things like that.

He did not want to waste it spending time with his family because his mother was obsessed with some kind of old fashioned decorum that was long extinct in the modern era. Snob of a whore she was.

The roast beef was subpar at best, the potatoes bland, and the rolls were little better than rocks. The only good part, and his favorite of any meal, was the carrots. They were good for the eyes. What more did you need?

His father cleared his throat for perhaps the fourth time that evening. He always cleared his throat while he was eating before he spoke. Of course, he usually did it several times before he actually said anything. The first clearing was usually only noted and then ignored.

"Things easing up at work?" his father finally asked after a fifth throat clearing. "You're coming home earlier."

"I guess you could say that," Marcus answered, a bit gruffly but then again, he hadn't waited until he was done chewing to answer. Eat your heart out Sybil Cynis, he broke decorum.

"Town going easy on you?" his father asked just for the sake of asking. Not a big conversationalist there. Bain suppose that's where he inherited his conversation skills.

"Park County decided to take some cases off our hands," Marcus said. "Freed up a lot of time. Still on call in case something happens. Might turn in early and get some rest though." Short answers there Marcus. Was the job starting to get to you yet? Bain wasn't surprised; from all his books he knew just how tough the profession was.

His father nodded and left it off at that. Typical. Looked like he still wanted to talk though you wouldn't get that idea just by looking at him. It was all in the body language and after years of reading it, Bain knew all the signs by heart. A soft, moist carrot entered his mouth and he chewed on the morsel thoughtfully.

His father cleared his throat for the sixth time that night. "We…Sybil and I have been discussing this for a couple weeks," his father said, his lovely wife smiling up at him. Made Bain to want to puke. "It's been nice having you here but we feel that when Sierra graduates in the next month, you two should have your own place. The two of you really don't need to move in with your parents do you? So, we've taken the liberty of getting the two of you a place of your own."

Bain snapped out of his self-centered thoughts and tuned in more to what was going on. What was this they were talking about?

"Wow," Marcus said, staring at the Cynis patriarch in awe. "You…?"

"It's at the condominium complex that's at the outskirts of town but a friend of mine wanted to get rid of it and was offering a dirt-cheap price," his father shrugged. "It's not new but it should be a good place to start out at."

"That's…that's really awesome of you to do," Marcus said, having some trouble speaking. Bain was of the same frame of mind himself except he was more demanding in wanting to know what brought about this bit of generosity. "But what if something happens and Sierra and I break up, not that I'll ever do that because I love her and everything…"

"You can always buy it from us, once you have the money that is," his mother chuckled.

Fuck them. Fuck the two of them and Marcus. Sure, it looked like this was a gift from his parents to a prospective son-in-law but Bain was not blind. This was a gift for Sierra, one that was thinly veiled as a start-up home for a doomed couple. Unless Marcus remained spineless around his bitch of an older sister, this little "relationship" was not going to last. And the day it did end, oh, it would be Sierra who would kick Marcus out on the street then run home to mommy and daddy.

Bain was not blind as to not see this happening. And it pissed him off in ways unimaginable. Sierra always got the best things. Quality or quantity, it did not matter. She always got everything and got her way in the end. If she weren't his sister, he would have butchered her up a long time ago and he wouldn't use her as a homage to the serial killers and other single murderers who lived in the world. No she would be a unique masterpiece all of her own, complete with originative mutilation and visible dump site.

If only she were a complete stranger…

He glanced over at Marcus, struggling to keep his anger from exposing him. Now was not the time but he couldn't help but become even more enraged as he listened to the cop thank his parents for such a thing. No, no, he would feel guilty if he accepted the condo for them. Let him work for it. Yeesh, he was laying it on thick there.

"Nonsense," his mother had chided at the young man. "It's not that we don't want you here Marcus but James wants the basement back. The garage is running out of room for his emergency stash of gas."

"Gas prices are so high," his father muttered quietly, as if trying to give some kind of lame excuse.

"Isn't he the cutest?" his mother nearly squealed as she gazed at his father.

Bain did not need to see that expression on her face. He really didn't. It was like she was some teenaged teeny-bopper falling in love for the first time. It was sickening to watch. She was in her forties! Sure she still retained that quality of beauty that could make even the same sex lust after her but it was still like watching some kind of train wreck occur.

Awful to watch but you couldn't look away. Well, Bain could look away after all once you've seen one wreck, you've seen them all.

Without a word outside of a grunt, he placed one last carrot into his mouth, placed his silverware down, and took his leave from the table. He couldn't stand all the mushy _feelings_ that were going around anymore.

As always, he returned to the sanctity of his room but he hadn't been there but a few minutes when someone decided to intrude. Winslow would have to be on his desk while he was practically on the other side of the room.

"Hey," Marcus greeted. "Mind if I come in?"

Oh sure, come right in. Take your shoes off, make yourself at home like you weren't going to do but were anyway. His room was just bustling with social activity that it was impossible not to ignore. Well, Bain was going to try and do what he usually did in social situations and that was try and ignore it and go about his own thing. He had been browsing his shelf of books, something to give him some mild entertainment before he went to bed.

Should he pick any of the True Crimes? Or should he go with the tried and true default? He had read _The Exorcist_ so many times that he had memorized all the page numbers of his favorite parts. He could skip over the less stellar parts and get to the good stuff in mere seconds.

Marcus released a loud exhale once he had taken a seat on the bed, his usual spot, and drummed the palms of his hands against his knees. "Um…are your parents usually like that? Giving things like condos to people they barely know?"

Bain paused through his skimming of various titles. Visibly, he made a show of thinking about Marcus' question and in actuality, he really was thinking about Marcus' question.

"No. Nothing comes to mind," he answered. "The most expensive gifts they've ever gotten for anyone not themselves were vehicular travel devices for their children."

"You're talking about cars, right?" Marcus asked, trying to wrap his feeble mind around Bain's extensive vocabulary.

"What else would I be talking about?" Bain scoffed. Hmm, ah, _Everything She Ever Wanted_, the story of Sierra's life. Outside of Charlotte, Ann Rule was the only female that had gained any modicum of respect from the sociopath.

"Oh, I, eh, never mind," Marcus said, tilting his head to look up at the ceiling. The most fascinating thing in the room, Bain would know. He stared up at it every time he retired for the night. "So they've never done something like this before?"

"I thought we had established that," Bain said, skipping over the one Suzy Spencer book he owned. Never again, you bitch. Your writing was dry and had the sentence structure of a ten year old. Only the facts with you and not enough detail in your sentence structure. Ann Rule, you had truly spoiled him with your fascinating style of writing.

"Do you know what they were talking about with that emergency gas stuff?" Marcus asked when it looked like the so-called conversation was stalling.

"He's been stockpiling cans of gasoline ever since Katrina," Bain explained though he had no idea why. "Has some irrational fear that one day he won't be able to afford a gallon of gas so whenever he's filling up at the station, he always fills up another can or two. Used to keep them all in the basement but then you moved in."

"But won't the fumes just rise up through the floor?" Marcus asked.

"Hasn't been a problem thus far," Bain shrugged. Thomas Harris anybody? Maybe another day.

"What's this?"

Bain paused in his search for the right book and looked over his shoulder. Marcus was looking at an envelope and it took Bain a moment to recall what it was. It had arrived recently so he hadn't completely ingrained it into his impressive memory stores just yet.

"Stanford?" Marcus asked incredulously. Then looking up at him, "Is this what I think it is?"

"Do you think it's an acceptance letter from Stanford University?" Bain asked rhetorically. "If so then you think correctly."

"Wow," Marcus said, staring at the precious letter. "You have to be pretty smart. What are you going into?"

Bain smirked. "Psychology."

"For some reason, I thought that was what you were going to say," Marcus said. "So you want to be a psychologist or maybe a psychiatrist? What's the difference between the two? I can never remember."

"Actually, I'm more into the research," Bain said. "I couldn't bear to have to sit in an office for an hour, listening to someone bemoan just how problematic their lives are. And for your information, the difference is that a psychiatrist can prescribe medicine and a psychologist can't."

"That so? Stanford. Wow. I didn't know you had applied there," Marcus commented.

"A place that approved to go through with the Stanford Prison Study can't be all bad, can it?" he said. "Has one of the best if not _the_ best psychology program in the nation. How could I pass something like that up?"

"So you're not going to be here for long," Marcus said more than asked. "In August, you're going to be out in California."

"That's the plan," Bain agreed.

"Have you told your girlfriend about this?" Marcus asked.

And the one question that Bain had did his best not to think about. Indeed, what would Charlotte think about this?

* * *

><p>The world was a dark and depressing place. You always heard those songs about heartbreak but you never really put much stock into them.<p>

But then when your heart really was broken, those songs you ignored suddenly became all true. Your heart really did feel like it was broken. Like there was some place in your chest that had once been full but was now empty. And it hurt. It really hurt.

That was exactly how Stan felt as he laid in his bed, a drape covering up the window and darkening his room so that it was almost pitch black.

_I'm lying alone with my head on the phone_

_Thinking of you 'till it hurts_

_I know you hurt too, but what else can we do?_

_Tormented and torn apart_

Even though he had crawled into a dark place and curled up into a ball like a pussy, he felt like he _wanted_ to crawl away into a dark place and curl up into a ball like a pussy. It looked like that if he wanted to do it, he would have to uncurl and leave to go to a light place so that he could then crawl back into a dark place and curl up like a pussy.

But where would he go? Well, he did know a few places…

_I wish I could carry your smile in my heart_

_For times when my life seems so low_

_It would make me believe what tomorrow could bring_

_When today doesn't really know, doesn't really know_

The bridge at the small park that the town kept up for sake of trying to be a real small town. Though made of stone and brick, it only spanned over a small creek that looked deep but was more shallow than the wading pool at the community pool.

It was a familiar place for Stan as he usually came to this bridge whenever a girlfriend broke up with him, usually Wendy. This time was different; this time it wasn't with Wendy that he had broken up with. This time it was Kyra. Damn it, he felt so much for her, so much that it hurt.

He had messed up, Kyra was right. It was because of his mistrust in her that this had all come about. And every time that Wendy 2 had cornered him in the bathroom and he hadn't told Kyra, it was just one offense after another. He should have pushed the other girl away, no, shoved her. It seemed like the only way to get through people like that was to use violence.

And Wendy 2 was his fault in the first place. His plan to make Wendy jealous by hooking up with a hot girl had worked but now it was coming back to bite him. It was biting him now. He was losing Kyra because of it.

_I'm all out of love, I'm so lost without you_

_I knew you were right, believing for so long_

_I'm all out of love, what am I without you?_

_I can't be too late to say that I was so wrong_

The bridge wasn't helping him so he moved on, walking down the streets of South Park. Why was the sky so clear? It should be dark and raining, to reflect his current mood. It was always supposed to rain when something like breaking up with your girlfriend happened.

It was like one of those unwritten rules that should be carved in stone so that even nature would obey it.

Oh God, where was his heart? It really felt like it was missing and there was a void right where it should be. It hurt oh so much.

_I want you to come back and carry me home_

_Away from these long lonely nights_

_I'm reaching for you, are you feeling it too?_

_Does the feeling seem oh so right?_

Why was this always happening to him? Why was he always finding the love of his life and when he finally got them, it was always somehow broken? First Wendy and now Kyra. What was wrong with him?

How did others do it? How did Kyle—oh wait, he had broken up too. What about Kenny—what _about_ Kenny? Never mind, um, how about Cartman—stupid question there. Even if the fat boy was shacked up with someone and from the looks of it that other person was wearing the pants, Stan would never stoop to having to ask Cartman for relationship advice.

It would probably go something like this: _Stan, you have to put yer foot down and tell that bitch 'Ey! I'm in charge he-ar! Go back into the kitchen and make me a Gawddamn sandwich ya ho!_

If he wanted advice on how to not get back together with someone, then he would go to Cartman.

Well, um, what about Token and Michelle? And that Hispanic couple? They looked so happy together. Did they know something about how to keep a relationship strong or something?

_And what would you say, if I called on you now_

_Saying that I can't hold on_

_There's no easy way, it gets harder each day_

_Please love me or I'll be gone, I'll be gone_

Or should he not try? Should he just give up and accept that he's going to be alone for the rest of his life? Happiness was not in the cards for him. Stan plus love for another person would never equal happily ever after.

He should just be done with it. He should give up and say no more, I've got nothing else left to bet with. He tried his hand at the blackjack table that was love and come out broke. The only thing he had left was what was left of his heart, if there was anything else left of it, and the clothes on his back.

He should just be happy with what he had now and wish the next player good luck. They were going to need it. Should he warn them that it was a losing game and spare them the agony he was going through?

It was the right thing to do.

But he just felt so cold, like the world was full of pain and nothing but pain. Maybe he needed to dig into his closet and find that forgotten black shirt and hat of his, re-pierce his ear with that single cross earing, and break out his mom's mascara.

Raven just might be returning to town.

_I'm all out of love, I'm so lost without you_

_I knew you were right, believing for so long_

_I'm all out of love, what am I without you?_

_I can't be too late to say that I was so wr—oof!_

The punch came out of nowhere and Stan, the senior quarterback was flat on his ass and nursing what could only be a forming bruise on his cheek. Where was he? The pain had caused him to black out for a second and interrupt Air Supply's _All Out of Love_. Even Air Supply had felt the blow.

Coming back to his senses, Stan scowled as he rubbed his cheek and searched for the asshole who had decked him. He found a pair of dark-clad legs and followed them up to find out the identity of his assaulter.

Damien.

Fuck.

* * *

><p>Damien had been warned of what he might find. It looked like he was just in time then.<p>

Today had been all fine and good, the prom election going off without a hitch. What had made this day better was when Kyle agreed that he could come over for a bit. A small greeting with Cerberus later and he was lying on Kyle's bed, staring up at the ceiling and waiting for the Broflovski matriarch to finish up cooking her kosher dinner.

No, he hadn't been laying on Kyle's bed because they did anything; Kyle had stubbornly sat at his computer the whole time so they couldn't do _that_. He had just laid out there because there was no other place to lay out on other than the floor and while Damien enjoyed carpeting like the next person, a mattress was infinitely more better.

Then he managed to get Kyle talking with him but what Kyle wanted to talk about, well, take a wild guess what it was.

Thankfully, it wasn't that Violet mortal. However, it was about Stan and how down he was getting. Worried that his friend might be reverting into some kind of Goth phase, Damien had eagerly volunteered to check up on the depressed mortal. It would earn him some brownie points with Kyle so his motive wasn't entirely selfless.

What he had found was the mortal of Kyle's worry wandering around the town and singing out loud a dope song that the Antichrist was sure was the national anthem for breakups.

So he hit him. It stopped that annoying song at the same time so it was more of a plus than a negative.

"What the fuck was that for?" Stan demanded.

"You're not depressed anymore, are you?" Damien asked in reply, checking out the hand he had used for the physical violence. His demonic strength prevented him from sustaining any kind of harm and to be honest, what he gave Stan was more of a love tap than anything. A real demon wouldn't have held back.

"No but now I'm pissed off," Stan said as he got back up onto his feet and held his fists up, ready for a fight.

Seriously, did that mortal think he stood a chance against him, the Antichrist? Hello, the blood of Satan was running through his veins remember?

"Good, wrath! Anger! Feed me with your rage," Damien mocked. "If there's one thing about you mortals that's predictable is that you get ticked off real easy."

"Well maybe that's because you punched me you dick!" Stan spat back.

"Well normally I wouldn't punch you out of a blue mood but Kyle was worried about you," Damien explained with a lazy drawl. "So I hit you to get you out of it."

"Why is violence and damning people to eternal torment your answers for everything?" Stan demanded.

"Because violence is the answer for everything," Damien replied, shrugging.

Now honestly, how could you argue with that?

"Goddamn it," Stan hissed as he pressed a hand against a cheek, rubbing it in an attempt to soothe the stinging.

"Also you looked pretty stupid singing to yourself like that," Damien added, not knowing when to stop pressing his luck.

"Like you know what it's like when you're girlfriend breaks up with you," Stan snorted.

"Actually, I do," Damien retorted, leveling a red-eyed stare at the jock. "It feels like someone ripped your heart out of your chest and stomped on it with football cleats and then set it on fire, doesn't it?"

Stan stared at him with shock. "That sounds like what's happening to me!" he said out loud. "I didn't think you ever went through a break up!"

Damien frowned at the mortal. "Kyle," he simply stated.

Stan stared at him blankly but ended up shrugging his shoulders. "So what did you do after you 'broke up'?"

He didn't like how Stan sounded like he was humoring him. Just irritating, that was all. However, he thought back to what he had done after Kyle had cut their ties.

The memory of him gorging on a popular frozen mortal treat produced by a couple of guys called Ben and Jerry while sobbing like some spineless wimp on a bathroom rug while the floor was littered with dozens of empty cartons was not one he wanted to remember. His stomach had hurt from all the ice cream he had stuffed into it and he had to fast for a couple of days before he could devour anything substantial.

Why did you taste so good, Ben and Jerry? Why did you have to make a product where you couldn't have just one bite?

"I don't want to talk about it," he said simply.

"Whatever," Stan said, rolling his eyes.

He was just asking to be damned into eternal torment, wasn't he? The scorn was not one he appreciated. The things he had to deal with…

"So how is wandering the streets and singing a breakup song helping you out?" Damien asked.

Stan narrowed his eyes. "None of your business," he muttered.

"Doesn't appear to be accomplishing anything to me," Damien continued. "Of course, delving into a state of depression is the pussy way out of doing nothing."

"Are you calling me a pussy?" Stan growled, balling his fists.

"What else would you call yourself?" Damien asked rhetorically.

Stan glared at him but eventually lowered his eyes down, anger masking his shame.

"If you were a real man, you'd be thinking of ways on how to get this girl of yours back," Damien mused aloud.

"But what if she's already found someone else?" Stan asked, his voice quiet.

"What if she hasn't?" Damien retorted. "Every minute you spend out here is one more minute she has to meet someone new."

"Damn it you're right," Stan muttered. "You have any ideas on what I can do?"

"Not a one," Damien freely and shamelessly admitted.

"You're a big help there," Stan rolled his eyes.

"Stan, if you want this girl back so much, you have to be willing to give up everything," Damien said.

"But I've already given up everything!" Stan bemoaned. "Everything but my dignity!"

"Then guess what you're going to have to give up," Damien smirked, revealing a razor sharp fang that was anything but friendly.

* * *

><p>Incessant pressing of the doorbell drew Brittany down to finally answer the door when it became apparent that no one was going to answer it. Was she the only person in the house or something? Honestly!<p>

In no mood to be nice, as soon as she opened to front door, she shouted angrily, "WHAT?"

And found that there was no one there waiting to greet her. Son of a bitch, was someone playing ding dong ditch with her? Really people, you needed to grow up.

Without another thought, she slammed the door and began to stalk off.

Not a minute later, someone was ringing the doorbell again.

Freakin' annoying. So she was back at the door in almost no time but once again there was no one there. She looked up and down the street, looking for any sign of anybody who might be fleeing the scene of their pathetic joke.

"Ha, ha, ha, you're a real genius," she spat sarcastically when she found no one in sight. With an aggravated growl, she slammed the door again. She began to leave but then stopped.

You know, if this was a pattern, any second now, whoever was playing this stupid-ass joke was going to start ringing her doorbell again. Well, if she was right at the door when they began ringing it, she would catch whoever it was red-handed. Then she would put an end to this pretty quick and maybe kick this asshole's ass!

Oh yeah, sounded like a plan.

The seconds became a minute and a minute became two minutes. Brittany continued to stand at the door, waiting for the next prank. Well? Come on asshole! What were you waiting for?

Unexpectedly, something broke through a nearby window and Brittany jumped in surprised. What the? What the hell was happening here!

Approaching the mess of glass and grimacing at it, she noticed something white stick out. Gingerly picking the object up, she felt paper press against her fingertips and she began to get the idea that this was some kind of note. Unwrapping the paper, she saw that it had covered up a rock, the very thing that had broken through the window.

The note itself was folded up and Brittany opened it up, her suspicions of what it was confirmed though she had no idea what it was all about.

Spelled out with pieces of magazine clippings, the message read:

AllEY beHINd tOM'S RHinOplastY

toNighT

9 P.m.

Then in what looked like a marker:

_Don't you ever look down you bitch?_

And yes, down was underlined.

Brittany quickly looked through the broken window but she wasn't expecting to see anyone there. Whoever had thrown it through her window was long gone by now, probably at the meeting spot designated by the note.

Brittany crumpled the note in her hand, glaring through the window. So this person thought they could throw a rock through her window and get away with it, eh? Well, she was going to show them who was boss!

It was on, on like a Muslim jihad.

* * *

><p>Author's Note: Got a couple of ideas for a couple fics, both in the same story line that includes <em>Stranger in those Homicidal Eyes<em>, _Fiends_, and this current story. One is a prequel of sorts while the other is a sequel. Now, I'm going to give you some quick summaries of the two stories and ask you what your thoughts. Specifically, I want to know which one I should do first. As of now, the stories are nameless but your feedback on which should get priority is needed/desired.

The first story: A prequel to _Stranger in those Homicidal Eyes_, this is a story that focuses on Bain before he met Charlotte/Charlie. While setting things up for SITHE, it focuses on a girl who develops some affections for Bain, unrequited affections, and those soon turn into obsession.

The second story: A sequel to _Malicious Motives_, ten years have passed and it's high school reunion time. However, because this is South Park, things aren't that simple. The final battle between good and evil is provoked when the flow of souls to Hell begins to dry up due to the Black Market scatching them up. Pissed off at the no-refund policy, Damien declares war on Earth. Ultimately, it all comes down to Kyle who will have to choose which side he has to stand for, good or evil, heaven or hell, the Antichrist who's been vying for his affections or the friends he had grown up with. Naturally, OCs will play a part, the focus will be more on canon characters though.

While I'm not expecting much response outside of maybe one review, I would really like to hear what you guys thing. Send me a PM or something because I do not want to put this up to a poll just yet.


	24. Cartman's Three

Author's Note: Big ties in the poll for popular characters. Let's try to get some more diversity into it but allow me to say that I am surprised at the current results. On another note, it's now two votes for a sequel and no votes for a prequel. Still curious about what you guys think about it. Summaries are in the previous chapter. Enjoy.

Disclaimer: I do not own South Park.

Warning: language, violence

Cartman's Three

South Park High was draped in the shadows of night, its window blanketed in darkness and the parking lot was completely lifeless. It was safe to say that the school grounds were emptied, not a creature was stirring in the place.

"_Butt Boy, what's your location?"_

A black-clad figure emerged from the shadows, pressed against the wall of the school. "I'm near the main entrance Alpha Dog," Butters reported into the headset he wore.

"_Good. Queermo, what's the status on the door?" _Eric's voice spoke through an ear bud.

"_Goddamn it! For the last time, stop calling me gay!"_ Jake responded angrily.

"_The door, Queermo! What's the status on the door!"_ Eric demanded angrily.

"_It's freakin' locked! Happy?"_ Jake snapped back.

"_Shut yer bitch mouth up already! Butt Boy, pick the lock,"_ Eric ordered.

"Roger," Butters responded as he crept closer to the school's front entrance. From a pocket, he pulled out a set of lockpicks that he had been given a crash course lesson on using only half an hour ago. He didn't really have an idea on how to use them correctly but he was going to try his best anyway.

"_Hey Queermo, what's the status on the teacher's lounge's temperature? Don't give me any lip either."_

There was a growl but Butters had a hard term figuring that out as it sounded like a lot of static. _"It's about 90 degrees and rising, fat ass."_

"_Ay! I'm not fat and I thought I told you not to give me Goddamn lip!"_ Eric retorted.

Okay he was at the door now. Butters swallowed and did his best to ignore the growing argument in his headset as he bent down and looked at the lock. Okay now, he was supposed to take this wire here and insert it into the keyhole and…

"_Stop calling me gay and I'll stop calling you fat,"_ Jake proposed.

"_What is this, some kind of teen rebellion? You gotta grow up man because this is so immature,"_ Eric replied with a tone of superiority.

"_I gotta grow up? That's the pot calling the kettle black if I ever heard it!"_ Jake spat.

The tip of Butters' tongue peeked out of his mouth as he worked the small wire in the lock. How was he supposed to move it again? This was so tricky…

"_Jesus Christ, dude, you need to come out of the closet already,"_ Eric said. _"Being in it has cramped your mind. Come out of it already and embrace yourself already. Nobody cares if you swing that way."_

"_I AM NOT GAY! I'm not! I'm the straightest guy in town! I'm so fucking straight that I make Main Street look crooked!"_ Jake roared.

"_Main Street is littered with potholes and tilts to the right."_ You could hear Eric shrug with that comment. _"Going by that, everybody is straighter than Main Street."_

"_I'm straighter than the Eiffel Tower!"_ Jake boasted.

"_You're straighter than a bunch of surrender monkey French people, ooh, I'm so impressed!"_ Eric mocked.

"Um, guys?" Butters spoke.

"_What about you? Aren't you a bit too into Kyle?"_ Jake challenged. _"You know, I've always wondered… I mean, what if that relationship with Brianna's just for show?"_

"_Screw you asshole! I'm not a fucking queer! I'm so straight that…that I make the Great Wall of China look crooked!"_ Eric yelled, making Butters wince from the shriek Eric's microphone made.

"_But doesn't that weave around through the mountains and curve all over the place?"_ Jake wondered.

"_Fuck you! Screw you guys, Imma goin' home,"_ Eric bellowed.

"_Aren't you already in your house?"_ Jake asked.

"Guys?" Butters asked.

"_Eh, fine then! I'm going to mah room!"_ Eric declared.

"_Prima donna,"_ Jake mocked.

"GUYS!" Butters yelled.

"_What?"_ Eric and Jake answered simultaneously.

"I'm trying to concentrate on this lock," Butters said. "I can't focus when you're making all the noise so will you two just shut yet pie holes and let me work?"

"_Sure. Okay. Whatever you want man,"_ Eric said.

Butters nodded and continued with his lockpicking. It took a little bit longer but finally, he was able to pick it and enter the school.

"I'm in Alpha Dog. Where do I need to go?" Butters reported.

"_Alright Butt Boy, what you need to do now is go straight down the hallway you're in…" _Eric began to instruct.

* * *

><p>In contrast to the school, the streets of South Park were lit up by the street lights but the bulbs weren't in great condition in the first place. Dim light rained down on the concrete-covered earth but that was far from the mind of Bonnie Snyder who was on her way to the back alley behind Tom's Rhinoplasty.<p>

Only a couple of hours ago, someone had rang her doorbell like some annoying kid would. After answering and finding no one, Bonnie had had the frame of mind to look down and discovered a folded up piece of paper.

And now here she was, almost at the meeting place where whoever had sent her this note wanted her to be at. It would be nine soon and Bonnie was going to be there on time. Think of it as practice for when she was elected Prom Queen. She shouldn't be too early or too late. Too early would make her look like one of those overachieving know-it-alls and too late would mean she was a slacker.

Get it just right and people thought you were cool. At least that's how she heard Kenny explain it one time to Kyle.

So she would take the blond's advice and try to time things so that she was just a _little_ early and close to being on time.

But who would want to meet with her this late at night? Who would leave a note like that at her front door and using clippings of letters to spell the words? It was kinda creepy in her opinion and something in the back of her mind was trying to tell her that something about it was wrong.

Yet here she was, on her way to the designated meeting spot.

Someone was there already. Bonnie shouldn't have been surprised by that; this person had to be the person who had sent her that note in the first place. So someone here was trying to be an overachieving know-it-all. Bonnie could proudly say that she wasn't that know-it-all, nope!

Then…

"Wendy 2!" Bonnie cried out, recognizing the person. "Wow, so it was you? Long time, no see!"

Wendy 2 leveled a heated glare at her. "For the last time, my name is _not_ Wendy fucking 2! Call me by my middle name, anything! Anything but that!"

"What is your middle name?" Bonnie wondered.

"You don't remember?" Wendy 2 demanded though she sounded like she was about to lose it.

Bonnie thought about it. "No, can't say that I do," she answered, shrugging helplessly.

"Oh you're just looking for an ass kicking, aren't you?" Wendy 2 snarled.

"Not really," Bonnie answered the rhetorical question. "I'm looking for whoever left the note at my house. Was it you?"

"Me?" Wendy 2 frowned at her. "I found a note at my house too. Weren't you the one who left it?"

"Aha! I should've known! It was you Bonnie!" Brittany exclaimed, just arriving on the scene and pointing a finger triumphantly at her rival.

Bonnie looked back at the other girl, confused. "It was me?"

"So you admit it!" Brittany declared. "You owe me a new window bitch—Wendy 2! Oh I see; you're teaming up with the enemy now, aren't you?"

"I'm just going to kick your ass on general principal now," Wendy 2 growled, cracking her knuckles. "Two of my greatest enemies stand in front of me right now and I don't think it's a coincidence. Afraid that I'm about to win the Prom crown? Well you're too late! The votes are in and there is no doubt in my mind that I won. All that sexual harassment shit was a mere distraction that everyone else saw through. Well, I have no idea what you two are up to but let me say it's not going to work!"

"Hey, I was going to say that!" Brittany complained.

"Sucks to be you! Kick me out of my own group will you?" Wendy 2 snarked. "This payback is long overdue!"

Brittany narrowed her eyes. "Wait a minute…you're the one that's been attacking the other girls! And Kyle! I should have known; only _you_ would have stooped low enough to resort to physical violence!"

"What are you…? I never attacked anybody!" Wendy 2 defended.

"It makes sense," Bonnie remarked, reinserting herself back in to the conversation. "You're the only person I know who would use such underhanded tactics."

"You don't even know the meaning of the word!" Wendy 2 accused.

"Yeah, I was trying to sound cool," Bonnie admitted.

"And you're failing miserably," Brittany deadpanned, drawing closer to the two girls. "Besides, we all know who's won the election. Me. There's still time before they announce who won and I'm betting you two are hoping to prevent me from showing up and getting _my_ crown. Well, I'm going to have to disappoint you two."

"Oh, that's great coming from a traitor like you!" Wendy 2 snorted. "I bet there's a bunch of LESBIANs around here and you're all about to jump me and stop me from winning the crown. Kinda like how you kicked me out of LESBIAN in the first place! I'm not about to let you blindside me again!"

"Hey, it's my turn!" Bonnie complained.

"Your turn?" both Brittany and Wendy 2 asked.

"You two already had your awesome monologues and that was your second one Wendy 2!" Bonnie whined.

"Whatever, just do yours already," Brittany rolled her eyes at her while Wendy 2 glowered at being called Wendy 2 again.

"Okay, um…uh…damn, I can't think of anything!" Bonnie muttered.

"Can we get on with this already!" Wendy 2 demanded, moving a few inches closer to Brittany and Bonnie.

"Waiting for the princess over there is going to take all night," Brittany agreed, also inching closer.

"Don't call me names!" Bonnie snapped edging towards her two opponents.

"Screw you, I'll call you whatever I want," Brittany snorted.

"For once, I agree with you, powderpuff," Wendy 2 smirked.

"Don't you start," Brittany warned.

"What, we can't call you names?" Bonnie glared.

"Someone's a hypocrite," Wendy 2 taunted.

"I'm going to shove my high heels so far up your asses that you'll be tasting them for a month," Brittany threatened.

"I'd like to see you try!" Bonnie challenged.

"I'm about to open two cans of whoop ass, no need to thank me," Wendy 2 said as she raised her fists.

As the girls' challenges became greater and greater, a low rumble began to accompany them, growing louder by the minute as the girls soon had less than a foot between them.

They were sitting ducks for the car that roared as it barreled down the alley way at them.

Brittany had her back to the car and Bonnie and Wendy 2 had difficulty seeing it due to the headlights being turned off but the latter two saw the vehicle at the last second and tried to pull away.

Neither of them had the opportunity to cry out as they both experienced glancing blows from the car. Bonnie felt her whole world spin for a moment until she ran into the brick wall of the building that formed a part of the back alley. Wendy 2 had something similar happen to her except that she ran into a cluster of garbage cans. Brittany, on the other hand, was less lucky.

Brittany took on the full blow of the car, smacking against the car's hood then slamming up against the windshield. Not a second later, the car put on the brakes and Brittany went flying off to roll and skid against the pavement.

The car engine continued to rumble as the driver side door opened and Bonnie got a good look at the masked figure that emerged, a crowbar in hand. Dazed from her glancing impact, Bonnie began to try and drag herself away but apparently, her movement attracted the attention of the person who was undoubtedly the infamous Prom Queen attacker.

Bonnie whimpered in fear as the masked attacker raised his crowbar up into the air and the girl shut her eyes quickly as the iron bar began its descent to strike her down.

* * *

><p>DJ cracked her eyes open in annoyance as she was woken up by the sound of her phone. She lifted herself away from the awkward position that she had fell asleep in at her computer, a crick in her neck telling her that that had not been a good idea.<p>

What was…? Never mind, who in the hell was calling her? _Her_ of all people?

…it better not be any of those LESBIAN or MUFFDIVER idiots. She really had brought that one upon herself, hadn't she? And all for what? A vain attempt to get even with that psychopathic asshole?

Going to a group of teenage girls who were more obsessed with hooking up was not the greatest idea in the universe, especially when they neglected to do their parts of their bargains.

And just when she finally finds something, on her own no less, it too gets shot down and she's left with absolutely nothing. She was no closer to getting revenge on Bain than she was after she had been thawed out. It was so freakin' annoying!

Why wasn't anything working for her? Why was it that whenever she took a step forward, she inevitably ended up taking two steps back? It wasn't fair!

Damn it, what the hell was ringing—oh wait, it was her phone.

Now who the hell would be calling _her_ of all people? She should answer or just let them go to voicemail out of spite?

Stretching her arms over her head and working her neck to get some of the soreness out of it, she picked up the cellular device and gave a customary answer.

"Who are you and what do you want?" she barked into the receiver.

"_Um, is this DJ Callahan?"_ the speaker answered, sounding a bit cowed.

"You got her. What the hell do you want?" she demanded in no mood for any games.

"_We go to school with one another and I'm, um, I'm Kyle Broflovski—"_ the speaker began to explain hesitantly.

DJ interrupted him. "I don't care, what is it you want? You have ten seconds and then I'm hanging up asshole."

"_S-sorry but I've been talking around and I was told you knew a bit about that group at school, MUFFDIVER? I was wondering if you could tell me more about it,"_ Kyle said.

"Why do you want to know about those cunts?" DJ remarked snidely.

"_Well, I'm going out with this girl and I heard she was part of it. I just wanted to know if it's true that they're a group that goes around trying to hook guys up with other girls,"_ Kyle explained.

Christ, she did not need this. Once again, those idiots from one of those groups were depriving her of something, this time sleep. How much were they going to take from her? Everything?

Then her mind caught up to what this unexpected calling was wanting.

"Which girl is it?" she asked carefully.

"_Uh, it's Violet. Violet Robins,"_ Kyle answered.

"Yeah, she's in MUFFDIVER alright," DJ said. "Yeah, and she's had an eye on you for a long time."

"_What…what does that mean?"_ Kyle asked hesitantly.

DJ smirked. Screw her out of your deal, will you? Well, MUFFDIVER, it was time you learned why no one crossed DJ Callahan. With someone as highly opinionated as Kyle, a little misunderstanding was expected but then again, it wasn't a misunderstanding if what he got out of her was the truth and nothing but the truth?

Maybe some embellishing was needed though but it wasn't that far from the truth.

Besides, the guys should be warned that they were being preyed upon by feminine predators hoping to make them trophy husbands. Who was DJ to deny them that?

* * *

><p>Butters had to resist rubbing his knuckles together as he crept down the halls of the school. He could easily see the outdated security cameras that held vigil over the hallways and each time he snuck passed them, he always felt a surge of fear.<p>

Eric had assured him that he had had hacked into the security system and disabled the cameras but the blond wasn't so sure about that. So as an extra precaution, he snuck around them as best as he could, anxiously biting his lip each time.

"_Butters, Gawd! What's taking you so long?"_ Eric demanded.

Butters swallowed and spoke as quietly as he could, "Just making sure I don't get spotted by the cameras, Alpha Dog."

"_Jesus Christ! I told you I already turned them off!"_ Eric complained. _"Hurry your bitch ass up already!"_

"I'm just being careful!" Butters defended.

"_Careful, smareful, just hurry the fuck up,"_ Eric ordered.

"_Hey, don't be so hard on him,"_ Jake said.

"_Stop flirting with him, cock fag,"_ Eric countered.

"_Seriously, I'm going to kick your ass you bastard,"_ Jake swore.

"_You're more likely to try and ass-rape me, queer,"_ Eric retorted.

"Uh, guys? I'm here," Butters reported as he finally arrived at the teacher's lounge. Studying the doorknob, Butters noted that it was a key coded door lock. A number combination would be needed to release the lock.

"_About freakin' time!"_ Eric said. _"Alright Butt Boy, let's do this. Queermo, what's the room's temperature?"_

"_98.6, just how you wanted it,"_ Jake answered dully.

"_Good, now what about the code?"_ Eric asked.

Silence. _"I thought you were going to do that,"_ Jake said.

"_Me? I specifically told _you_ to look up what all the passcodes were going to be!"_ Eric said.

"_But aren't you the one who's hacked in to the school network?"_ Jake asked.

"_Eh…that's not important right now! Damn it, how the hell are we going to get in?"_ Eric said.

Butters swallowed and waited for a solution to crop up. Eric and Jake needed to come through for him because quite frankly, he was the one in the school who was risking himself getting caught here. They needed to come through for him. They just needed to!

"_Hey, I have an idea,"_ Jake said. _"Someone once told me how to get through one of those doors before."_

Butters pressed a hand against one of his earphones. "I'm listening."

Jake rattled off a set of instructions and Butters nodded his head once or twice as he accepted the information. When Jake was done, Butters sighed. "Here's goes nothing."

He raised a foot up and kicked the door.

The door didn't budge and Butters ended up falling flat on his ass.

"_Well? Did the fairy's idea work?"_ Eric demanded.

"No," Butters grunted.

"_Christ,"_ Eric swore. _"Hold on a minute. There are some air ducts nearby and they go into the lounge. Hope you got your rope on you, Butt Boy."_

"Roger Alpha Dog," Butters sighed.

* * *

><p>Roxi handled the mask of <em>Le Chat Noir<em>, fiddling with it but not doing anything else with it.

Her costume remained on the bed, limp and lifeless and sucking up all color in the room.

She just didn't have it in her to put it on. What would be the point anyway? She had gotten into this to protect the innocent and defeat the wicked and earn herself a Spiderman kiss from a certain mysterious superhero.

She had underestimated just how dark a person's soul could be. Wendy admitting that she had cheated on Stan had shown her that. If someone like Wendy could do such a thing, then what else were other people capable of? And how much worse was it? To her, cheating on someone you loved was despicable. When someone of Wendy's kind was able to do such a thing, then anybody was capable of doing it.

Everyone around her was capable and probably already doing very bad shit. She couldn't fight it all and right now she didn't know if she wanted to fight it. She'd tell Mari all about it but her friend had kicked her out of the house and told her to stop being emo.

So she had to wallow in her depression all by herself which was really lame by the way.

Wasn't this what Goth kids did? They were so lame in thinking this was cool.

Damn it Wendy! Why'd you have to do this! Why'd you have to cheat and destroy all of her faith in humanity! Why? It was a terrible thing for you to do and you knew it was terrible so why did you do it?

She let _Le Chat Noir's_ mask falling out of her hands to drift slowly to the floor to rest on the carpeting. The eyeholes seemed to look up at her piercingly, demanding to know why she was giving up. She shouldn't give up because of a setback like this. These things were going to happen every now and then so shape up and get over it you pussy!

Roxi stared back at the accusing mask. But why did it have to be someone as good as Wendy, huh? If someone like Wendy could do it then what were real bad guys like that Professor Chaos capable of? Trying to dip someone into a pond of acid could only be the tip of the iceberg! She wasn't ready to take someone on like that!

But that's what Mysterion did every night and he always came out on top, the mask seemed to reply to her. He's probably seen the worst that humanity has to offer and yet he continues to put on his mask and continue the fight.

But Mysterion's cool, and tough, and strong too! Roxi narrowed her eyes at the mask. He can take the hits and roll with the blows. He knew what he was doing!

Not at first, the mask appeared to retort. He had to start somewhere. He was in her position once but look at him now. He had risen up to the rank of legends. Sure, he might find out some dark secret that would inevitably make him question why he was doing what he was doing but he didn't let it stop him from going back out, again and again, fighting to save the rotten soul of this world.

But I'm not Mysterion, Roxi conveyed.

Yes, I can see that, the mask looked as if it said before falling silent.

Roxi stared at the piece of cloth for a moment.

Did…did she just have a conversation with a mask? In her head? Was…was she going crazy?

Was she beginning to lose herself to _Le Chat Noir_, just as Mysterion warned?

She had no answer to that and could only continue to stare back at the mask in the darkened room.

* * *

><p>Marcus could not go to sleep. He just couldn't. Not after the announcement of Sierra's parents giving them a condo as a startup home. It was so generous of them, really. He had not expected it and in the next couple of days he would be moving out.<p>

It was kinda exciting but he couldn't help but wonder why they would do such a thing. Were there some unseen strings attached to this that he was not seeing? Or was this a genuine act of kindness? Something in the back of his head was saying something was not right here but for the life of him he couldn't figure out what it was.

To be honest, he didn't feel like he deserved it. He had only been in this town for a few weeks, had not accomplished much with the job in law enforcement, and now he was being given a condo of all things. What was so special about him anyway? Was he that likeable of a person?

Nah, that couldn't be it. What was he missing? He couldn't just go up to Mr. and Mrs. Cynis and ask them what they were up to. That was rude. He had been a bit skeptical about the gas can excuse they gave at the dinner table but then he had looked in the garage…

You could probably keep a car fueled for a year with as much gas as there was in there. So there was a little truth there.

If anyone in this place had the answers, it would most likely be Bain. The kid was smart, probably already knew what was going on. Yet when Marcus thought to ask him about it, he had gotten sidetracked by the Stanford letter. Bain sorta clammed up after that, most likely thinking about that girlfriend of his, whoever she was. Hadn't met her yet but from all the dinner conversations that he had listened to thus far, she was the first person the teen was involved with.

Marcus had the impression that Bain was one of those loner type guys and didn't like to be around people. So a girlfriend was going to be a big deal with him. Who was she, he wondered. She had to have seen something in Bain to stay in his presence. Bain wasn't the most pleasant of people but Marcus had a feeling that there was more underneath that gruff exterior of his.

Sierra's brother was pretty interesting in his opinion.

Sierra…

It's been a while and surprisingly, Marcus found that he wasn't missing her as much. Strange, especially since when he was back at the academy he would look forward to the very minute he met up with her again. He had never met a girl like her before so he was tripping over himself, trying to keep her attention on him and not the other guys who were checking her out.

He had lost count of all the stuff he did, more than likely immortalizing himself in stories that involved stupid shit guys did to get in a girl's pants. Of course, his intentions had been only to get her to look at him and not…well, get to home base or anything like that. So the first kiss she pecked onto his check had sent him up to Cloud 9 in warm and fuzzies.

When had all that changed? After graduation, they had come straight here to South Park. He had still felt butterflies in his stomach whenever he had looked at her then. The very thought of her could send him into a daydream that he would indulge in. Now, though, he was thinking about her but it wasn't as intense anymore. Were the flames beginning to die out? Now? Just when it looked like they could start out a new life with one another?

It had to be the police job. It was a career choice that could make anyone jaded. He had been warned about it on the first day at the academy. He needed to see her again and heat up those coals. He loved her, he really did.

The day her final exams concluded couldn't come too soon. It would mean that he got to see her again and then everything would be all right. It would be like there had been no distance between them and then they could start for a future, hopefully one that included both of them in it.

That day couldn't come soon enough.

* * *

><p>Butters was panting as he carefully exited the air duct. That exit, of course, was done extremely slow due to all the motion sensors in this room. A centimeter a second was as fast as he could go because whoever programmed the system hadn't thought to use inches.<p>

Darn metric system.

His feet touched the tiled floor and slowly he rested his weight on them. No alarm had sounded yet so that meant he was still in the clear. However, he couldn't relax yet. He needed to reach the ballot box, which he could see was on a table some twenty feet away. Maybe a little less than that but when you were moving at a centimeter a second, the distance was vast.

"_Butt Boy, have you arrived?"_ Eric demanded.

Opening his lips but keeping his teeth together, Butters answered, "Affirmative Alpha Dog." He hoped there were no audio detectors or anything or else him speaking out loud would expose them.

Nothing yet though.

"_Do you see the box?"_ Eric asked.

"Yep," he answered.

"_Alright, move in and make contact,"_ Eric ordered, his anticipation obvious in his voice.

"Copy," Butters said.

And then he began to move, albeit so slowly. He was taking small steps because he figured that if he took a step too far, he would lose his balance and that was a sure way to get caught. Getting caught was the last thing he wanted to do because if he was, who knew what his dad would do to him?

He could picture it all right now:_ Butters! What have I told you about breaking into and robbing secure locations? Never get caught! You are grounded mister!"_

Huh, almost sounded like he was actually there.

One centimeter at a time, Butters. You can do this. Just one centimeter at a time…

"_What is taking so long?"_ Eric complained. _"Butters? Have you reached the ballot box yet?"_

Butters gritted his teeth together. "Not yet," he answered.

"_Gawd! What's taking so long!"_ Eric whined.

"_Hey, lay off him,"_ Jake spoke up. _"This is the hardest part!"_

"_Then why's it taking so long? You would think that he'd want to do this part quickly!"_ Eric huffed.

"_You have no patience whatsoever,"_ Jake accused.

"_Oh yeah? Well…well you're a homo!"_ Eric retorted.

"Um guys?" Butters asked but was soon ignored.

"_Screw you, you fat asshole!"_ Jake bellowed.

"_I'm not fat, butt pirate! I'm big boned so drop it and the soap you're holding,_" Eric insulted back.

"_Drop the soap I'm holding? What does that mean?"_ Jake wondered though you could still hear the anger in his voice.

"_Have you not seen any movies about prison?"_ Eric exclaimed, aghast. _"Whenever you drop the soap, somebody comes up from behind and ass-rapes you! Honestly, I'd think someone like you would like it."_

"_Fuck you, I'm not gay!"_ Jake shouted.

"Guys?" Butters said a little louder but didn't get through. He was halfway to the box but the conversation in his headset was starting to distract him.

"_Denial is the first stage to mourning,"_ Eric chided. _"Go on, mourn your dead heterosexuality because once you go gay, sodomy is okay."_

"_When I get my hands on you, I'll stab your dick with so many holes that the next time you take a piss, it'll go in different directions!"_ Jake swore.

"_Oh no, stop! You're talking about my junk!_" Eric mock protested. _"Why am I not surprised. _You_ would be obsessed with dicks."_

"_You're just asking for it!"_ Jake practically snarled.

"_That's the excuse you homos always use when you take advantage of us pure hetero—"_

"God darn it, enough already!" Butters interrupted, losing his patience. "I'm trying to get through this room but you guys' arguing is distracting me and making this hard as heck!" He viciously stomped his foot on the floor. "If you guys can't say anything nice about one another, then don't say anything at all!" He swung an arm in the air wildly. "If you're not helping me then I'm quitting, you got that!"

The headset was quiet for a minute.

"_Whatever you say Butters,"_ Eric said, somewhat cowed.

"_You're the boss,"_ Jake agreed.

Butters huffed but said nothing else. Then he remembered that throughout his tantrum, he had been moving a lot and not at the rate of speed of a centimeter a second. No alarm had gone off. No alerts had been announced. Nothing.

Experimentally, Butters held a hand in front of him and waved his hand very quickly, much faster than the one centimeter a second allowance. No response.

Another experiment, Butters took a full step and waited. Again, nothing.

Eric must have been mistaken about the motion sensors. Either they were turned off or they weren't installed. This was a good piece of news. Yes sirree!

Dropping his slow pace, Butters strolled over to the ballot box, quickly speeding up the amount of time it would have taken.

"I'm at the box," Butters said as he began reaching out to take it.

"_Finally!" Eric exclaimed! "Grab it Butt Boy and get the hell out of—"_

An alarm began to blare, the whole room became bathed in red lighting, and it was only then that Butters noticed the laser beams that surrounded the ballot box. How had Eric come up with there being motion sensors and not the lasers?

"_What the hell's going on in there Butt Boy?" _Eric demanded.

"There were lasers around the box!" Butters reported.

"_Lasers? Oh Goddamn it!"_ Eric cursed. "_Get out of there Butt Boy! Grab the box and get out of there!"_

_Eemergency! Eemergency! Teeecher's lounge has beeen compromised! Protect zee tequila!_

The voice of the former principal rang out on the intercom, surprising Butters. Things got worse after that as a metal door slid over the entrance to the air duct, the windows became barred and the door became impassable as lasers sprung out of the floor in front of it.

Butters was effectively trapped.

"Aw hamburgers."

* * *

><p>Marcus frowned as he phone began to ring. Picking the device up, he answered it.<p>

"_Wake up Mack! The burglar alarm at the school just went off!"_ Barbrady's voice came in through the ear receiver. _"We need to get there on the double before those Park County guys do!"_

"Right," Marcus sighed, not bothering to correct his superior.

* * *

><p>Stephan Stotch glared down at his son with nothing but disappointment. The Stotch patriarch could still look imposing even in a bathrobe and he knew it.<p>

"I'll take it from here officers," he said to the two men who had brought his son home, the eighteen year old looking down at the ground in shame.

Oh, he didn't need to be told what was going on. He knew what it was all from the getup his son was wearing. It was as obvious as the nose on his face!

"Good night Mr. Stotch and sorry about the inconvenience," Officer Barbrady said, a younger cop at his side. "Duty calls."

"Don't I know it," Stephan replied, crooking a wry smile at the law enforcers. "Have a good night."

"Thanks!" Barbrady called back as Stephan Stotch closed the door behind them ominously.

"Butters," he said lowly. "How many times have I told you this? If you're going to be an international thief and break into and rob secure locations, don't get caught! How else are you going to succeed in life if you keep getting caught?"

"I understand sir," Butters said, chastised.

"No, I don't think you do," Stephan corrected. "If you did, you wouldn't have gotten caught! Now go up to your room. You are grounded mister!"

"But dad! I'm eighteen years old!" Butters protested, surprising the father. "Aren't I too old to be grounded?"

Stephan paused for a moment, thinking over his son's words. He was eighteen? Huh, thought he was younger. Then again, that did explain why his son was almost his height. And while the good ol' standby of grounding was his favorite way of punishment, Stephan had to admit that it was a bit much grounding someone who was legally considered an adult.

"You're right," he said. "You are a bit old to be grounded. Alright, Butters, go up to your room and pack your stuff. I'm kicking you out of the house for a few hours."

"What?" Butters exclaimed.

* * *

><p>"Sure showed those Park County guys didn't we?" Barbrady crowed behind the wheel of his vehicle. "They didn't even show up to apprehend that thief!"<p>

"Yeah," Mark? Michael? His name began with an M, Barbrady was sure of that, agreed. "Wonder where they were."

"Who cares? We get the credit," Barbrady replied, keeping the car at cruising speeds. "I can see it all now. The papers will proclaim us as hero cops for catching the thief that tried to steal the election results. I bet they'll have a parade and everything!"

Mickey grunted and Barbrady took that as a yes.

Turning onto Main Street, the two cops caught sight multiple flashing red and blue lights as well as a large gathering of police cars and a few ambulances gathered around Tom's Rhinoplasty. Barbrady shared a glance with Morton and coasted towards the scene of activity, wondering what was going on.

They were passing by just as two EMTs were pulling a gurney up into one of the ambulances and the two officers saw an injured girl laying on the contraption, unconscious.

"Hey, I think she was one of the prom queen candidates," Maximilian exclaimed.

Barbrady quickly put on the brakes. Due to how slow they were going, there was no dramatic squealing of the tires against the pavement which was a shame. "What did you just say?" Barbrady demanded.

"I-I think that political terrorist just struck again," Marlon said. "No wonder the PCPD wasn't at the school; they were here!"

"Gosh darn it!" Barbrady cursed, slapping the wheel. "This is making us look bad!"

"They struck again," Marmalade agreed, downcast. "How are we supposed to keep the town safe when this guy is uncatchable?"

"I don't know but we gotta catch him!" Barbrady declared. "We need to go pay a visit to the juvenile detention center one more time."

"Not there!" Mick moaned.

"It takes a criminal to catch a criminal, Monty," Barbrady said. "You're just going to have to take one for the team. It's for the greater good!"

* * *

><p>"I don't understand it! I mean, the election is over! Why did these attacks continue?" Principal Victoria asked though she expected no answer.<p>

It was the following morning after the latest attack and now eight of the nine prom queen candidates had been assaulted to some degree. Three in one night, all of them lured out into a trap…

"I guess we should just suspend the prom royalty portion of prom," Mackey suggested. "Now that we're all out of queens, m'kay, the kings just might be next."

"Do you really think they're going to allow you to suspend the election, especially when voting has already taken place?" Bain challenged. "You'd be risking a riot, spearheaded by none other than the king candidates themselves."

"You really think they'd start a riot, m'kay?" Mackey asked, staring blankly at the short student.

"Maybe, maybe not, you want to risk it?" Bain replied. "Whatever you decide, I'll stand by it."

"And put all of the responsibility in my lap, eh?" Principal Victoria grunted.

"It's kinda curious, I mean, we just had the vote and whoever was attacking the girls still did so, m'kay," Mackey pointed out.

"Are you saying that whoever is attacking the girls isn't going to this school?" Bain mused out loud. "We did move the vote up by a week. This attacker may not have been aware of it."

"But it was broadcasted on the news," Principal Victoria pointed out.

"FOX News," Bain corrected. "That just means it's either someone who's left-leaning in their ideology or doesn't watch that network. FOX does tend to attract those of conservative ideology."

"Does it matter who's news it is?" Mackey asked. "What are we going to do?"

Bain combed his fingers through his mussed up hair. "Can the queen election. Say that they're all disqualified."

"We just held the election; someone's already won," Principal Victoria said.

"They violated the rules; they went out without an escort or protection," Bain said. "There wasn't a time limit placed on those rules, were there?"

"Well…no," Principal Victoria answered.

"Then use it or something else that makes sense," Bain advised. "But keep the Prom King results legal. Say we aren't going to bow down to terrorism or something."

"Christ," Principal Victoria groaned. "Why does all this have to happen now?"

"I don't think we have the time to bemoan our current state of affairs," Mackey tried to say consolingly. "We're going to have to move quickly and decisively if we're to get out of this in one piece."

"If you're thinking of throwing me under the bus, I'll take you down with me," Bain said suddenly.

"Aw shoot," Mackey looked down, giving away just what his plan was going to be.

"We're not going to have anyone commit suicide around here, even if it would take everyone's attention away from us," Principal Victoria decided. "We're going to have to bite the bullet on this one and try to make the best of it. I mean, what other choice do we have?"

When she said nothing else, Mackey looked over towards Bain who continued to watch the frustrated principal dispassionately. "You can go back to class now or wherever you need to be, m'kay."

Bain glanced at the counselor but took his leave without argument, leaving the two adults alone.

"I knew we shouldn't have gotten into all this," Principal Victoria muttered. "I just knew it."

"Well there's nothing else we can do except play with the cards we have," Mackey said. "I'll inform the students of what has happened and hopefully they don't tear the school down in protest."

"You really…you know what, I don't think I'll ask," Principal Victoria said. "With this class of students, I'll never know what to expect."


	25. The Nightmare Before Prom

Author's Note: Big time skips in this chapter. From this point on, there will be, I think three more chapters. It's definite now. A handful might be sad to hear this news, a lot of others won't care. But anyway, I'm still interest in hearing your thoughts over what fic I should do next. I'll put the summaries at the bottom and refresh your memories. Also, the poll for popular OC is still up. Poll ends when the last chapter is posted, which could be anywhere from tomorrow till the end of June. Enjoy.

Disclaimer: I do not own South Park, _Montage_ by Trey Parker, and _He Said, She Said_ by Ashley Tisdale.

Warning: language

The Nightmare Before Prom

"Ah, I was beginning to think you weren't going to show up," the inmate commented, his ever present smile pasted onto his face as if with superglue. "I had expected you much earlier."

"Hey Josh," Barbrady greeted. "You have no idea what strings I needed to pull to get back in here. It's like they set up a bureaucracy to keep me out but I sure showed them!"

"Indeed," Josh agreed and looked around. "Where's your partner? Officer Marcus?"

"Oh, he's out in the car being a Sour Sally," Barbrady shrugged.

"Pity, I wanted to ask him more questions," Josh shrugged.

"Now Josh, you know you have to stop with the creepy act," Barbrady warned.

"Oh, I don't have to stop with anything," Josh dismissed. "You see, I'm getting out in the next couple of days. I'm about to be a free man."

"Paroled?" Barbrady wondered.

"Actually, my term is expiring," Josh shrugged. "But that's neither here nor there, is it? You did not come all this way just to have a pleasant chat with me, did you? You came here for something, am I right?"

"Oh yeah," Barbrady blinked, remembering that this wasn't a social call. "The last of the prom queen candidates were attacked a few nights ago. I was hoping you could help could shed some more insight. You know, point me in the right direction?"

"I could," Josh shut his eyes. "But you do remember our arrangement, yes?"

"Come on Josh, do we really need to go through with that?" Barbrady complained.

"Quid pro quo, Officer Barbrady," Josh said. "If Officer Marcus was here, then it would have been him but I'll have to deal with you."

"But Josh! I have nothing else to tell!" Barbrady protested. "We've already gone through my daddy problems, my sneaky uncles, my sneaky aunts, and my non-existent weight problem! There's nothing left!"

"Oh? Tell me Officer Barbrady, why are you working with a young man who is more than half your age?" Josh asked. "Could it be that this is more than a professional partnership?"

"Okay, I definitely don't like where this is going," Barbrady said.

"Could it be that all the childhood trauma that you've experienced has affected you in more ways than one? That the fact that your father forced you into dresses and made you sit in all your uncles' laps had an adverse effect on you?" Josh continued mercilessly. "C'mon, Officer Barbrady, give me something so that I can give you something in return."

"Josh. I'm really uncomfortable here," Barbrady stated, continuing his resistance. "I don't… Look, I just need to know what your thoughts about this case are. There are no Prom Queen candidates anymore. The attacker has gotten them all and we…we weren't able to…stop…them…"

"Are…are those tears?" Josh asked incredulously.

"No!" Barbrady exclaimed even as trails of saline water streaked down his cheeks comically. Rubbing at his eyes, as well as taking his sunglasses off for a second, Barbrady said, "I just…had something in my eyes is all! Both of them! Dirt or something."

"Of…course…" Josh relented, affected like most men are when they see a grown man crying. "Very well, I'll give something up first but only this one time. Was there anything special about this latest attack?"

"Um…let me think," Barbrady pondered. "Well, the attacker lured all three of the remaining candidates and then tried to run them over with a car."

"It sounds like your attacker is hoping to speed the process up," Josh said. "Voting hasn't occurred yet, correct?"

"Actually, the school held the voting earlier this year," Barbrady said. "One whole week in fact."

"And your attacker still struck?" Josh asked.

"Well, yeah," Barbrady shrugged.

"Sounds to me that the attacker has gotten in so deep that he couldn't stop even after it was too late," Josh said. "One by one, they fell. And then he couldn't make himself stop. That or the attacker was unaware that voting had been moved up, in which case this person may not even be attending the school."

"But that could mean _anyone_ could be attacking those girls!" Barbrady declared. Then, melodramatically turning his back towards the TPer, he added, "Even me."

"Did you…attack those girls?" Josh asked.

"I…don't know," Barbrady said.

"I think that answers it," Josh muttered to himself. Then aloud, "This attacker probably has an unrealistic view of prom, specifically the royalty. The psychosis is probably so severe that it has overtaken their life. Check mental institutions in the last twenty years concerning anyone admitted due to prom related issues."

"You think it could be a mentally ill person committing these crimes?" Barbrady asked, turning back to Josh. "Hey, that makes sense! It happens all the time in horror movies!"

"Quid pro quo," Josh said. "Your horrible childhood may have skewed your views towards relationships in unanticipated ways. All the women you've ever dated, the ones who stayed the longest were usually dominant. That and possessed traits that you find in a male. Could it be that you, Officer Barbrady, are attracted to men?"

"I'm not gay Josh," Barbrady stated. "If I was, I'd be working in Rhode Island."

"You may not like men but you are attracted to masculine qualities," Josh continued. "How is your relationship with your boss, hmm? That powerful woman up in city hall? She's like your Jennifer Aniston from that movie _Horrible Bosses_. Is she your Jennifer Aniston? Does she degrade you into sexual acts in her office, like playing secretary where you are the secretary?"

"I am not at liberty to confirm or deny that," Barbrady looked away, coughing loudly.

"Of course," Josh said, letting it go. "But that does not change the fact that you have 'friendly' feelings all directed towards your partner. This one has certainly lasted the longest, hasn't he? The fact that you let him stay in the car this time instead of dragging him down here speaks volumes. You're gentler on him unlike all the others. Somewhere deep within you, in that dark part that you don't like to admit is there, you find yourself attracted to this young man."

"Alright, alright, I admit it! I think Montezuma is a golden Adonis!" Barbrady cried and began cry in earnest as well as shame.

Josh blinked at the cop. For a moment, he broke out of character and said in a naturally softer voice, "Huh, called that one."

"It's my secret shame!" Barbrady wailed. "Second only to my shame that I was illiterate! That I might want another man to—"

**The following has been edited out due to graphic sexual details and the fact that the author wants to keep this at a T rating.**

"—with an outdated VCR!" Barbrady finished explaining his fantasy.

Josh stared at Barbrady, mouth agape. He couldn't even imagine some of those things being anatomically possible. Intriguing…to a degree but really it was not physical possible!

He felt like he was going to be sick…

Coughing polite, Josh quickly changed the subject. "It sounds to me only a mentally ill person would want to commit these evil deeds—"

"Oh god, I'm mentally ill too!" Barbrady sobbed. "I'm sick, sick from all these evil desires running through my head and corrupting my very soul!"

"Officer Barbrady, I've changed the subject," Josh said, his voice cracking.

"Oh? You did? Okay," Barbrady calmed down almost immediately. How odd.

"As I was saying, your attacker is beginning to sound like someone who is psychologically deranged," Josh explained. "You might even want to expand it to include…females. I just have this feeling that this isn't the work of a male."

"A girl, huh?" Barbrady mused. "Well, alright. Kinda strange that a girl would do something like that."

"But weren't you initially looking at the queen candidates, most of whom were girls?" Josh asked rhetorically. "Don't always be quick to dismiss the fairer sex, Officer Barbrady. You'd be surprised just what they are capable of. Now, you seem like you're a busy man. Go off and do your cop stuff. Fly, fly."

"Right!" Barbrady said but paused just as he was about to leave. "Oh yeah, almost forgot. Mark Anthony told me to give you this before I left." He held out an envelope which Josh accepted readily. A bit unexpected since Josh had yet to reply to the last letter.

Then Barbrady left, leaving the wing to its unnatural quietness that usually reigned supreme.

Before Josh could tear into his letter, the fellow in the next cell made a comment.

"Some of those things he said earlier turned me on," Trent Boyett said.

"Good for you Trent," Josh replied, shutting his eyes tightly as he tried to banish those disturbing thoughts.

After a moment, he got to the letter and opened it up, wondering what prompted this from his pen pal. Hmm. Oh. Oh… How…wicked. How absolutely wicked. Josh's fingers twitched involuntarily.

It looked like the next few days were going to be interesting.

* * *

><p>A lot of other things could be considered interesting. Prom was drawing closer and closer and there was just so much to do preparation wise.<p>

While the prom committee was practically done setting up, a few touches made here and there, it was with those who would be attending the prom that had the most preparation to do.

Suits, gowns, mums, tickets, limos if they could be afforded, basically anything that could throw a family's budget out of sync all in anticipation for the night that most were gambling was going to be one of the greatest of their senior year.

But with so much to do and so little time to do it in due to procrastination, only one thing could aid the seniors of South Park High.

Cue the montage theme.

_The hour's approaching, just give it your best_

_You've got to reach your prime._

_That's when you need to put yourself to the test_

_And show us a passage of time_

Stan walked behind his friends, a slight pout on his face as he stared straight ahead. When Kyle had asked him if he wanted to go to the mall with them, he had said sure, why not. He hadn't been hanging out with them much outside of lunch period and since things were on the rocks with Kyra, he might as well.

It would at least get him away and let him think about other stuff. Normally, going to the mall was a chick thing. Only girls would go to a large building filled with countless stores and find the concept exciting. Guys on the other hand went in when there was no choice and they needed to get something. Well, in their defense, this group of guys did have a purpose.

Kenny needed a tuxedo for prom and that was the big reason why the blond was with them. As he had gotten older, Kenny hadn't really had cause to attend things that required formal dress and so he was left without one of his own. Since the blond just rented, they were going to head to a place that rented tuxes and get one there and since that place happened to be in the mall, you get the idea.

And speaking of ideas, this was obviously Kyle's idea. Talk about the girl you might be seeing all you wanted, you once batted for the other team. You know what they say, once you go gay, sodomy is okay.

Now, he would be up there with the other two but they had a fourth wheel with them. No, it wasn't Cartman, thank God. Who knew what was up with the fat ass but the alternative…well, Stan didn't know if it was better or not.

He had shown up on time, with Kenny, and everything but when Kyle showed up, sigh, he was dragging along Gary.

Gary who was Kyra's best friend. A walking, talking, _breathing_ reminder of his ex. This was going to suck.

And suck it did. He narrowed his eyes as he watched the three ahead of him getting along. Once again he was getting a show of just how _friendly_ Kyle was with the Mormon kid. Damn it, Kyle was only supposed to be _friendly_ with his friends! Like him! Stan! Not this guy who moved in one day in the fourth grade and ever since dropped back into the background like an afterthought!

He was going to have to reevaluate this. Was Gary trying to steal not only his best friend but his friends? He added friend to that because it looked like Kenny too was getting along with the other blond.

Oh my God, what if they replaced him with Gary? Then Gary would be Stan 2! Noooooo!

Must not let it happen! Must not—

Hold up, what was that? Stan came to a stopped and stared at something he saw in one of the passing shops. He stared real hard at it and his frozen train of thought began to speed up to lightning fast swiftness. This…this looked…

"Stan? What are you looking at?" Kyle called from ahead.

"I…I'll be right back!" he called back to his best friend. "I gotta go pick something up!"

_We're gonna need a montage_

_Montage!_

_Ooh it takes a montage_

_Montage!_

"Gotta…hurry. Gotta be better than Kyle," Cartman huffed, his large, pudgy hands laden with shoping bags.

"Do you really need all that crap?" Brianna asked, eyeing the purchases. Since Jake wasn't around and playing manservant—bodyguard she meant, and Brianna absolutely refused to carry anything, Cartman was left to play his own pack mule.

"I need to be better than Kyle!" Cartman defended. "That Jew is obviously going to show up to prom looking like the best slab of man meat there is and I can't let him have it! I have to be the one that looks best at prom! Me! And you too since you're my b—"

"Ahem!" Brianna coughed, daring him to continue.

"Why'd you interrupt me?" Cartman demanded. "As I was saying, you have to look better than anyone else because you're my b—"

Brianna interrupted him again with another cough, full out glaring.

"Will you let me finish?" Cartman growled irritably. "You're my bitch so you have to look better than everyone else."

"I'm no one's bitch so have fun walking home," Brianna stated.

"What? Get your skinny ass back here!" Cartman called after her. "Get your—ey! Are you listening to me? Ey!"

_Show lots of things happening at once,_

_Remind everyone of what's going on_

_What's going on_

_And with every shot you show a little improvement_

It had been a random occurrence but Ella, almost looking like she did before her attack, found herself practically in the same place as Clyde.

This whole time she had been hoping to make some kind of progress with him but found herself preoccupied with helping self-conscious, when it came to boys at least, Violet out or involved with one of Gwendolyn's schemes. So there had been practically no progress with Clyde. Wasn't MUFFDIVER supposed to be there to help her out?

Well, they weren't here and Ella was a bit tired of the games. Why not take a shot.

"Hey Clyde," she greeted.

Clyde narrowed his eyes at her and he peeked the tip of his tongue out of his mouth, a cute gesture she found. "You're…Ella, right?" he asked.

She swallowed. Wow, he knew her name. For some reason, she thought he had known less. "That's me."

"Do you want something?" he asked.

"Just…would you go to Prom with me?" she asked somewhat straightforwardly. She was certainly being direct here.

Clyde looked like he was thinking about it. Then he shrugged. "Sure. Why not? Pick you up at seven?"

"That's good with me," Ella agreed, almost star struck at how easy this was.

"Great. Um, what's your number? In case I need it," Clyde continued, a bit sheepish towards the end.

Exchanging contact numbers came and soon enough, Ella found herself walking away, a date to look forward to. In just a few minutes, she had made so much progress than she had with MUFFDIVER. Perhaps she should start reevaluating her membership…

_To show it all would take too long_

_That's called a montage_

_Montage!_

_Ooh we want montage_

_Montage!_

Damien irritably flipped a coin but schooled his features so that he looked dispassionate. He leaned back against the trunk of a tree, the bark digging into the black sweater that seemed to be the only thing he wore on his upper body nowadays, the coolness of the mountain air warming up with the heat of the sun.

Right now the Antichrist was focusing more on physical sensations, trying to ignore the emotional ones that were raging within. He needed to be calm here else he would do something he would regret.

Still, a rejection to his offering to escort and accompany a certain Hebrew mortal was not something he was handling real well. He probably would have endured it better had the mortal in question mentioned that he had already accepted a proposal from a certain other female mortal.

Above his head, the leaves withered from the heat his body was emanating.

Was he beginning to lose this? Or was he already losing? He didn't like this, this feeling of not knowing what to do. He was the Antichrist, the demonspawn that was to bring about the end of the world at some point. He was better than this and should have been able to roll with how things had turned out. But he had nothing in which he knew he could work with.

Was it time to throw in the towel? Because it seemed like trying to regain his former status as Kyle's significant other was becoming a fleeting vision that was slowing turning into an impossibility.

_And anything that we want to know_

_From just a beginner to a pro,_

_You want a montage_

_Montage!_

_Even Rocky had a montage_

_Montage!_

Charlie watched as Christophe shook his head in disappointment and she rolled her eyes at him.

"Are you sure you weren't able to find a clue to where prom es going to be 'eld?" Christopher pressed, hoping to get something out of her. Someone had hired him to sneak booze into prom so that people could get a buzz from drinking the punch. However, without knowing the physical location, the mercenary was having a difficult time of it.

"Every prom committee member was doing their best to make sure neither Kenny or me knew where we were," Charlie explained for what seemed the nth time but was actually the third. "And when it wasn't the committee members, it was Bain. They must be serious about keeping the booze out this year."

"I can't fail zis mission, Charlie," Christopher said. "Et's bad enough you forced me to fail ze first time."

"Guilt tripping is not going to help you here," Charlie said. "Believe me, if I knew I would tell you because I would want to get drunk as much as anybody else. Stupid shit is so lame."

"Zat wheezle es killing me," Christopher grumbled. "Why es he so wrapped up in zis prom business in ze first place?"

Recalling what Bain had showed off to her while she had been there, Charlie thought it more prudent, for once, not to say more about it outside of a shrug. No sense making him look creepier to anybody else. Bastard would get a kick out of it.

_And anything that we want to know_

_From just a beginner to a pro,_

_You need a montage_

_Montage!_

_Ooh it takes a montage_

_Montage!_

Mari was pressing her back against her front door, using her body as a prop to try and keep out the person on the other side from coming in.

"Mari! Let me in! I need to express my inner emo with someone!" Roxi cried out from the other side of the wooden barrier.

"Find someone else!" Mari shouted back, steeling herself further while keeping a hand on the doorknob. Sure the door was locked but Mari wasn't going to be taking any chances here. "Why not go to Wendy or someone else who cares?"

"They don't know about my secret identity and you're supposed to be my invisible support system so that I can center myself," Roxi replied. Was she scratching at the door like a dog whining for attention would? Yes, yes she was.

"Where in hell did you get that idea?" Mari demanded.

"You helped make my costume," Roxi answered readily.

She should have never accepted that seventy-five bucks. It wasn't worth it. Had she known what she knew now then, oh this would have been different.

"Can you at least make me a sandwich? I'm kinda hungry out here," Roxi whimpered.

"When Hell freezes over," Mari retorted.

_Always fade out in a montage,_

_If you fade out_

_It seem like more time has passed in a montage_

_Montage_

* * *

><p>The days were speeding up, passing by quickly until the day that everyone had been waiting and planning for had arrived. This evening, on this day, was Prom Night. Not just any Prom Night but Senior Prom Night. A night that was romanticized by the media as one of the greatest nights of a teenager's life.<p>

Nothing would be able to compare to it. Not even when you saw your first born take his or her first breath would anything compare to this one, all-important night.

It sickened Bain at how much was put into this pile of crap.

Still, he had involved himself deeply in this night so who was he to talk? So much was invested here, years of planning about to bear fruit and like many people in town, he felt a sense of excitement though it was for different reasons. Soon this would all be over and he could sit back and wait until graduation.

So much stress in the past few weeks. Having to interact with other people, leave Charlotte to her own devices, neglecting all of those on his "to kill" list, and living under the same roof as a cop was taking its toll. Yet he had enough energy to get through this night.

However, what harm could a little rest do at home where there wasn't anybody to annoy him? His phone would be on silent for a while so he could pop in a power nap and then he would have to tend to some last minute details.

Even a mind such as his needed a break every once in a while, a very human attribute that Bain wouldn't allow anyone else to see. He still had a reputation to uphold.

As he walked on the driveway to his house, he noticed that there was a car parked out on the curb in the front. He hadn't seen this one before and was it him or was that a crack in the windshield? Whoever has been driving it must have not been a safe driver. Wouldn't it be something if the driver had actually hit someone with it?

Well, it wasn't his problem but still, the fact there was a strange car parked in front of his house out of all the houses on this block… Last time this happened, it had been his sister bringing home her tool. What were the odds that that car belonged to another boyfriend of his sister's? They had probably stupidly come here to get some private nookie or something. But wasn't Sierra supposed to be in Colorado Springs?

Well, distance had never stopped that bitch before.

Into the house, he slammed the door behind him and shrugged off the backpack that was weighing on his shoulders. That felt better. He rolled his shoulders, working some of the stress out of the muscles there and he lazily scanned the living room he found himself in to see if there was anyone else around.

It was then that he spotted the crowbar that was propped up in the doorway that led towards the kitchen. That was certainly an odd thing to find here, especially since Bain knew that no one in this household owned one of those things. Also, Bain really wasn't a fan of using that device for his extracurricular activities and that was just a personal choice there.

He heard the toilet in a nearby bathroom flush and he turned his dead eyes in the general direction of the noise. You have got to be…

A door opened and out appeared a dark-clad figure who happened to be wearing a ski mask. There was no doubt in Bain's mind that this was the attacker who had almost single-handedly eliminated the field of prom queen candidates. And now this person was in his house of all places. Bain continued to watch as the alleged attacker adjust their mask and smooth off wrinkles in the black turtleneck they wore.

Honestly, Bain rolled his eyes.

"I see you've made yourself at home, not that that hasn't stopped you before," Bain drawled as he propped his ass up against the back of the living room sofa, making no attempt to snatch up the crowbar.

The alleged attacker spun around, surprise in their visible eyes and body bracing itself in a planned run for the weapon of choice over there.

Bain snorted. "You can stop pretending, cunt. I know it's you. You were never good at hiding your deceptions from me though I do wonder if your professors know you're missing. Or maybe they don't care? That would be the first, wouldn't it? A group of individuals who don't give two craps about you other than your tuition money."

"Fuck you braindead," the attacker hissed at him.

"The mask is not doing anything to muffle your voice," Bain felt the need to point out. "Is this the best you can do?"

"Better than anything you can pull off," the attacker tried to quip. Poorly done, Bain noted. Minus points there.

"Cut the crap and show me that acne-scarred mug of yours," Bain replied, buffing his nails against his trenchcoat then examining them closely as if he had better thing to do than chat with this person. "I'm having trouble keeping a straight face over here," he added blandly. "What do you hope to accomplish here? If you think assaulting me the night before prom is going to have any impact, well, tonight's the big night. You're far too late to pull this kind of stunt. I bet our parents are out there prepping my suit and everything because mother dear always did like things to be proper. Worried that you're not getting enough attention today? As if that mask is giving you any."

The attacker narrowed their eyes and then roughly grabbed the mask and pulled it off.

Bain smirked.

"You are such a fucking prick, you know that," Sierra declared, the ski mask still clutched in a fist. "You always know what buttons to press."

"Unfortunately, you're directly related to me. I have to know everything about you," Bain shrugged lazily, his smirk turning into a grin. "That also includes the fact that you've been the one attacking all those girls recently."

"How'd you figure that out?" Sierra challenged, her body posture relaxing, a sign that she wasn't going to be going after her crowbar any time soon.

"You're the only person I know who has a pathological hang up over prom," Bain answered without hesitation. "You once tried to run a prom queen over with your car just because she was more popular than you and you didn't like her. And then there was your disaster of a prom. Did they have to give you electroshock to make you better?"

"You would know about that; Mom can't hold her tongue to save her life," Sierra said. Then, face darkening, "I can't let you have the perfect Prom, especially not after mine. Mine was supposed to be perfect and yours pathetic. Well, now I've gone and ruined yours. Just like you did mine."

"You do know voting was held right before you got the last three, right?" Bain asked.

Sierra blinked at him. "They were?"

"There's already a winner but I masterfully got their results declared null and void so that there won't be a prom queen this year," Bain explained.

"Why would you do that?" Sierra demanded, eyes narrowed at him. "You said you were getting involved in the committee to make sure that yours wasn't going to be bad as mine."

"No matter how old you get, you are just as stupid as ever," Bain shook his head as if he was chiding a small child. "Really, I hate prom. Always have."

He could see Sierra widening her eyes, staring at him as if he had two heads. "But…why?"

"Haven't you figured it out yet?" Bain scoffed. "I only got involved because I'm trying to ruin it. It's the night that practically every girl at school looks forward to. I couldn't resist destroying it."

It looked like the words in Sierra's mouth was turning to ash and Bain could see that she was having trouble comprehending his words. Not a big surprise, especially since she had always had the irrational belief that everything she considered important was held to the same standard as everybody else. Always so self-absorbed, unable to see that other people were not extensions of herself.

In some ways, she had never truly grew out of the terrible twos stage and all the egocentrism that came with it.

"W-w-what?" she finally managed to sputter out.

"Do I have to explain this to you like you're a five-year-old child?" Bain sneered. "I became head of the prom committee so that I could sneak in some nasty surprises into prom setup and no one would be the wiser. With the exception of a couple pairs of eyes, no one has caught on to me."

"Why are you telling me this?" Sierra asked, a deer-in-the-headlights look plastered on her face.

"No reason other than to get it off my chest, I suppose," Bain said thoughtfully, looking up towards the ceiling as if the surface held all the answers to life. "That and no one would believe you since as soon as you tell them about it, you'll also say you were the one attacking the girls. Otherwise it'll be all hearsay. Oh, and let's not forget your time at the state hospital's psychiatric ward. Some people might think you're relapsing."

He paused there deliberately and waited while those thoughts ran around in that pea-sized brain of hers. Yes, let it fester and convince her that telling anyone would accomplish nothing. Make the right conclusions your whorish cunt. His conclusions that is.

"You bastard…you…you're a monster!" Sierra exclaimed. "How…how could you defile the sanctity of Prom!"

"Last I recall, that's exactly what you were doing," Bain pointed. "A shame too; now there's no prom queen. At least we still have a king. You've left us all that much."

"I'll stop you," Sierra swore. "I won't let you ruin Prom again!"

What an idiot. First she's trying to ruin it and now she's trying to save it.

"Yet it was you who tried to ruin it first," Bain pressed instead. "I figure, if it's partially ruined, why not go ahead and make it a disaster? Go all the way. I promise you, tonight is going to be worse than yours. After all, your prom was just a warm up for tonight."

"A warm up?" Sierra seethed.

"Why yes. I needed to know what things would work and what wouldn't," Bain said. "Thanks to you, I'm well on my way to accomplishing my goal so I suppose a thank you is needed, wouldn't you say?"

"I'll stop you," Sierra repeated her swear from earlier. "You're not going to get away…get away with manipulating me! You tricked me into doing this but no more!"

Yes, yes, whatever helps you get to sleep at night.

Bain continued to watch his sister as she snatched up her crowbar. Without calling attention to the fact, he moved a hand towards where he kept Winslow hidden, just in case he needed it.

It looked like she wanted to come at him, though. The only thing that kept her from actually striking at him was the lack of fear he was expressing. He was challenging her to come at him and Sierra wasn't someone who came at you directly. No, no, she was a covert kind of person who only went for the direct approach if she was insane with rage.

"Go ahead," he invited. "Strike me down. Even if you do, that's precious time lost. Everything's is in place and nothing can stop it now. Even if I'm not there, everything will go exactly as planned."

"Shut up!" Sierra roared at him but again made no move to lunge at him.

"How does it feel, cunt sister of mine? How does it feel to know that you've lost the fight before it's ever begun?" Bain taunted.

"SHUT UP!" Sierra screeched and threw the crowbar at him. Bain ducked it quickly but for a moment took his eyes off Sierra. Once the danger of the flying crowbar had passed, he returned his attention towards where he had last seen her but found that she was no longer there.

Instead of taking action and searching for her, Bain simply waited where he stood until he heard the sound of a car screeching off from outside. She was gone.

Casually, Bain took out his phone and dialed a number. Sunny's number.

"Small change of plans," he said into the phone once his minion had picked up. "Nothing serious. I'll handle it all. Don't worry, I had a feeling this was going to happen. Mmhmm, now listen carefully because once you return to the prom site, I need you to do these little tasks…"

* * *

><p>It was a special day for Josh Myers today. Today he was being released from juvenile detention. His three month sentence had ended and now he was back on the outside with all the little people that dwelled in it.<p>

Along with reams of toilet paper. Soft and cushiony toilet paper…

Correct but first he needed to get through the guard checkpoints and retrieve the possessions that had been taken from him upon his last arrest.

"Hey Josh," the guard clerk greeted. "Hope you stay out of here longer than a week this time."

"As do I, Guard," Josh greeted back. For some reason, he could learn and recall the names of every cop he had ever met and peel away all the layers they had to get at their inner childs but this one guard he had never been able to do. A strange thing but maybe it was because he was so bland and everything.

"Alright, let's see what you got here," the guard clerk said as he dug through a large manila envelope. "One can of hair gel. One wallet with twenty dollars in cash and a coupon to a local grocery store for twenty percent off one package of toilet paper. The Hannibal Lector Trilogy on DVD, wrapping still on _Hannibal_. A list of addresses of houses that you wish to TP. One stick of gum. Hey, you be careful with this gum. Don't go sticking it under desks or the sides of walls, you hear me?"

"Loud and clear," Josh responded as he retrieved the stick of gum.

"Alright, that's about it. Just sign here," the guard clerk said, pushing a clipboard towards him, a form attached to it.

"Done," Josh said as he finished up putting his John Hancock down.

"That's it then. You're free to go," the guard clerk said. With a smirk, Josh passed around the man, heading for the next checkpoint.

"Thank you, sir," Josh said pleasantly before he disappeared from sight. "Good day and…um, good day I suppose."

A few minutes later, he was in civilian clothing and outside the walls of the juvenile detention center. He was a free man now.

He wasn't expecting anyone to be there to pick him up and it appeared that the bus hadn't arrived yet. He was stuck here for a bit it seemed. Oh well, might as well pass the time with this.

Josh pulled out the letter he had received from Barbrady only days ago, the envelope properly opened and took out the letter within it, his eyes scanning down the typed out words as he went over it again. He just couldn't get enough of it. Who knew the Axman was so flattering when he wanted to be? So many compliments…

One more time, he read over the instructions of a job that his pen pal was requesting of him. Thinking about it like he had numerous times, he came to the decision to go check it out. Not that he would go and risk jeopardizing his new found freedom…but it was so tempting. An artist like him being given the chance to work his craft one last time and tonight no less!

Should he resist or take up the challenge before him?

He should first see what he would be working with first before he made any decisions.

* * *

><p>It looked like it was going to be an early night at the Black Market.<p>

Ahem, for all your prom needs, whether you needed a tux or a gown, a mum, rent a limo, you can find all that and more at the Black Market and if you act now, you get a 40% discount on prom related merchandise! Act now!

That out of the way, back to the matter at hand. It was going to be an early night at the Black Market, which meant that the operator, Wolf Black, was going to be closing shop soon. That is unless he came across someone desperate for some kind of item then he would be able to call it a night and maybe get some early shut eye.

This called for an ice cream sandwich.

With the sweet treat held in his mouth, Wolf was taking account of today's earnings, totaling them up and comparing them to what inventory he left. Every day was a new season from Christmas to Valentine's to St. Patrick's Day to Prom Night. It could be said that it didn't matter what time of year it was, you could always find some kind of deal at Black Market.

Wolf was a businessman and he was well on his way to success. He knew business, knew how to apply it, and knew that a sucker—er—customer was born every second. Opportunity and timing were key to every perfect sale and if you did it right enough times then the customers would come to you of their free will and then you didn't need opportunity and timing anymore.

He was a master at both, thank you very much.

Wolf paused as he heard a loud banging at the door. Now who could that be? He was closing up…but if this was another customer then far be it for him to refuse them. Anytime was a good time to do business.

Taking a bite out of his ice cream sandwich, he moved towards the barred door and opened the side panel the covered the slot on the door.

"Password," he said and then got a good look at who was on the other side of the door.

The pressure he exerted on his frozen treat smushed the softened cookie wafers and splattered ice cream on his sleeve and onto the floor.

He didn't even demand for a password. He would have remembered if he had given this lovely vision of sex appeal a password in the first place. He couldn't let this opportunity pass him by!

All so suddenly, he recalled conveniently that he was a very lonely person.

"How may I help you, you beautiful vision of loveliness?" he purred as he practically tore open the thick metal door.

She strolled in, all business-like despite the fact she wasn't wearing anything business-like. Just this black turtleneck that did nothing to help what must be an impressive figure underneath it. If he didn't know better, he would have said she was dressed like a guy!

"I need some stuff and I hear you're the guy who has it all," the girl…woman, definitely, definitely woman, said curtly.

"Oh believe me, I have everything you could ever dream of," Wolf replied, laying the innuendo on thick.

"So you can get me all this?" the woman asked, practically slapping a piece of paper into his face.

Pulling back slightly, he took what he now recognized as a list. Aloud he said, "God why does this look so familiar?" Then, narrowing his eyes at her, he asked, "What do you want all this for?"

"No questions, can you get it all or not?" the woman demanded.

Rolling his eyes, "I already have it all in stock. That moves us on…" here he deliberately paused, "…to payment."

"How much?" the woman asked as he led her to the register.

Reactivating the computerized system, Wolf immediately began to run his calculations. "This one here is going to cost a hefty sum but this one here we have on discount if you buy three or more. Do you want three or more? We have a lot of this one here, so much that we're practically giving it all away! Ooh, we're running short on this, especially since it's been in high demand recently—"

"How. Much?" the woman growled at him, interrupting.

"Fine! Here's your total," Wolf sighed melodramatically, turning the computer monitor around so that this beautiful customer of hers could see it.

"That's not as cheap as I thought it would be," the woman said.

"This is a business, Ms.…?" Wolf began to explain but took the moment to try and see if he couldn't possibly get a name, maybe even a phone number out of this.

"You can call me…Sierra," the woman said at least.

"Ms. Sierra," Wolf said, tasting the word. One down, now for the phone number! Now how was he going to work that in? "A beautiful name for a beautiful person. Tell me, did the fall hurt? Because I swear you fell from Heaven."

"I don't have the cash for all this," Sierra said.

"You could write a check," Wolf hinted. "Just put your home number on it and maybe your home address, not that I'm going to use it for anything indecent or stalkerish, just for, uh, checking purposes?"

Sierra growled but then did the last thing Wolf could have ever expected.

She lifted up the seam of her turtleneck and exposed her breasts to him.

DANGER, DANGER, OVERLOAD, OVERLOAD, OVERLOAD!

His brain began to short circuit and a small trickle of blood began to leak out of his nostrils.

Then his brain rebooted and reverted back to business-like form.

He went back to basics and tried to barter.

"Can I touch them?" he asked in a child-like voice.

"No," Sierra answered coldly.

Nodding his head slowly, he said, "You drive a hard bargain. Paper or plastic bags?"

* * *

><p>Evening was always so beautiful, Josh noted. Then again, he hadn't really seen evening in a long time, two weeks minimum. The harsh life of juvenile detention.<p>

Now that the pleasantries were done, let's get down to business. He had gone out of his way to come to this "U-STOR-IT" storage facility, phone number (800) 4STORE-IT, and needed to reach storage container #37. He was to find his promised materials here and it would only be then that he would make his decision.

He could still walk away and no one would ever know about it.

Reading the instructions from Axman's letter, he removed a key that was taped to the back of a nearby dumpster. Must have been recently put there otherwise it might have been ripped off earlier by garbage men by accident.

Alright, now onto storage unit #37.

It was a simple matter to locate the unit and with precise movements, he unlocked the lock and then strained his slight muscles lifting the metal door up and over his head. TPing may have provided some exercise but he wasn't engaged in enough activity to have that translate into physical strength. He did have a killer pitching arm, though.

His jaw dropped slightly at the sight before him. He couldn't believe it. It…it was so beautiful. There were really no words to describe it.

It was a storage unit filled to the brim with toilet paper. Lovely, lovely toilet paper.

It brought a tear to his eye with how much there was.

But wait, should he let this tempt him? Should he return to his old ways and risk maybe going back to juvenile detention for another two, maybe three weeks?

The answer was obvious, wasn't it?

* * *

><p>The sun was beginning to set but Wolf paid no heed to that as he worked hard on his accounting. Normally he'd get some Jew to do it for him but it was prom night and every Jew he knew was not going to be around.<p>

This was perhaps the only downside to business, having to do your own numbers, but it was something that needed to be done.

He especially needed to take care of that order that Ms. Sierra gave to him. Kinda a loss there but damn it, it wasn't often he got to see some chick's boobs! He had had to go to the bathroom twice already in fifteen minutes to take care of the problem Sierra had left in her wake.

Okay, carry the one there and it equals nine…now subtract that over there…

He looked up from his work and stared at the door again as banging interrupted his concentration. Maybe he shouldn't have closed up so early. People were still coming in for Black Market products despite the late hour. A late hour that wasn't really late but he had wanted to call it quits early, so what?

Whatever.

Going back to the door, he opened the slot and said, "Password."

"_Girl playin' it cool but she's with it, she lovin' the fact that she's gifted, everything he do she gets lifted, feels so wicked lovin' like oh._"

He shut the slot and opened the door. "Welcome to Black Market, Ms. Long. Is there anything I can ge—eeeeeeet!"

Gwendolyn Long grabbed him by the straps of his suspenders, pleasantly manhandling him. Man, he was popular today!

"I need a date," Gwendolyn ordered.

"Anytime, anywhere!" Wolf responded cheerfully.

"Not with you!" Gwendolyn snapped.

"Aww," Wolf pouted.

"You can get anything, find me a date to Prom, tonight," Gwendolyn stated. "I refuse to go to Prom like some single loser."

Something about her face caught Wolf's eye and he found himself momentarily distracted. "Is that a black eye fading away?" he wondered out loud.

For his lack of inner monologue, he was shoved away.

"Work that magic or whatever you do, just find me someone," Gwendolyn said, looking away from him with a huff.

"Fine, fine," Wolf grumbled as he brushed the front of his button-up shirt and readjusted his suspender straps. "Over here," he gestured with an arm, leading her towards the computer which he had had the good sense to not turn off again.

Cracking his knuckles, he got to work, his fingers tapping the keys with practiced ease.

"One date for prom, coming right up!" Wolf announced. "I'm assuming you want someone handsome, human, a guy, cool and popular, am I wrong? Now, let's see how soon we can get him here…"

A moment of tapping, a few clicks and then the computer gave him the data that he was looking for.

"Alright we can get you a prom date…after prom," Wolf said.

Gwendolyn gave him a dead look. "What?"

"We can get you a prom date after prom," Wolf repeated. "So how would you like to pay for it? Cash or credit? Here at Black Market, we don't discriminate!"

"I don't need a Prom date tomorrow, I need it tonight!" Gwendolyn exclaimed. "Tomorrow's too late!"

"Well you should have come earlier," Wolf said simply. "You still want the date?"

"You have to have someone here that can go out with me!" Gwendolyn declared. Then as an added thought, "Tonight!"

"Sorry, but I can't help you there," Wolf shrugged. "The only person who's here is me."

Gwendolyn bit her lip and looked to a side and Wolf shifted his weight from one leg to the other, getting impatient the longer this customer was silent. He had work to do, you know. This accounting wasn't going to do itself.

"I can't believe I'm even…" Gwendolyn muttered to herself.

"What was that?" Wolf asked, looking at the customer curiously.

"You'll be my date," Gwendolyn stated.

Wolf blinked, staring at the girl for a minute. "Come again?"

"You don't have a date to Prom and I need one," Gwendolyn explained. "You'll have to do."

"Now just wait a minute here, I don't have to do anything," Wolf began to argue.

For the second time in five minutes, he was seized by the straps of his suspenders and pulled up close to Gwendolyn's glaring face.

"I will be damned if I go to Prom without a date. You will go with me to Prom and I will have a good time, you got that?" Gwendolyn snarled into his face.

Wolf stared at the girl with wide eyes. "Eight o'clock good?"

"In a limo," Gwendolyn added.

"I think I only have a stretch hummer left…" Wolf nearly whimpered.

"I don't care," Gwendolyn growled.

"Uh, great? See you at eight?" Wolf was full out whimpering now.

It was best to try and placate a beast like this. Resistance was futile.

* * *

><p>Author's Note: Who expected that to be the attacker? Don't all speak up at once. Please speak up at once. Once again, the summaries for the two fics but now with more updated summaries.<p>

First Story: A prequel to _Stranger in those Homicidal Eyes_, this is a story that focuses on Bain before he met Charlotte/Charlie. A popular girl at school falls head over heels for Bain but when he rudely rebuffs her, she develops an obsession with him. Other subplots include the regular South Park boys up to their old antics and other plots that set up things for SITHE.

Second Story: A sequel to _Malicious Motives_, ten years have passed and it's high school reunion time. However, because this is South Park, things aren't that simple. The final battle between good and evil is provoked when the flow of souls to Hell begins to dry up due to the Black Market snatching them up. Pissed off at the no-refund policy, Damien declares war on Earth. Unaware of the situation and alarmed at increased demonic activity, Heaven retaliates by declaring war on Hell. In the middle of all this, Kyle will have to choose which side he has to stand for, good or evil, heaven or hell, the Antichrist who's been vying for his affections or the friends he had grown up with. Naturally, OCs will play a part but the focus will be more on canon characters though.


	26. Prom

Author's Note: The chapter we've been building up to for quite some time. Prom. You're probably all wondering who won the election and all sorts of other things. Well, here it is in one very long chapter. Hope it was worth the wait. On that same note, you'll find out just who wins the crown after all, you guys were the ones who voted. For those that didn't vote, well, what can I say, you had your chance to participate and didn't take it. And speaking of voting, the poll for which OC that has been used in this story is the most popular/favorite is still up. The result of that one will be revealed in the final chapter so there's still time to get your votes in. Other than that, enjoy.

Disclaimer: I do not own South Park.

Warning: language, violence

Prom

With the exception of his tuxed-up self, Stan had everything in his car. No, he would not be picking anybody up because he wanted to keep a little something-something a secret until the right moment.

With only an address that had been e-mailed to all students, announced this morning in fact, he would be driving all the way to where prom was going to be held all by his lonesome.

Hopefully, by the end of the night, he would be driving back with someone else with him.

However, someone seemed to have a big problem with this.

"Stan? Are you going to go get your date for the big night?" his father asked casually, sipping from a cup of coffee he held in one hand. It would have been a beer but his mother had conveniently forgotten to get some at her last trip to the grocery store. Five days ago. And now Randy Marsh was without a beer to nurse at home. The horror.

"Actually Dad, I don't have a date," Stan answered honestly.

Little known fact: to survive in South Park, honesty was _not_ the best policy. Here was why.

Randy Marsh spewed coffee out of his mouth in a classic spit take. "What?" Randy hollered.

"I…don't have a date, Dad," Stan reiterated, becoming cautious a little too late.

"What do you mean you don't have a date?" his dad exclaimed, more horrified over this than the fact that there was no more beer in the house. "Are you telling me _my_ son is going stag to his senior prom?"

"Um, it looks that way?" Stan answered, uncertain.

"No. No!" Randy wailed. "My son can't go to prom dateless! He…he'll be a loser! My son _can't_ be a loser! He can't!"

"Dad, it's not that bad," Stan tried to smooth it over but it was like trying to level a tree with a cooking roller.

"It's not bad, it's terrible!" Randy Marsh declared. "My son…my only son…what have you done with yourself?"

After a moment of silence, Stan finally said, "Look, I'm just going to go—"

"You're not going anywhere!" Randy roared, stepping in Stan's way. "Look, Stan, we can fix this. We _can_ fix this! All you need is a date, is all. Do you know any girls at school who's not going to have one?"

"Not really," Stan professed before he stopped himself. Damn it, why'd he have to hang out with guys all the time? He barely knew any of the girls!

"That's okay, that's okay," Randy said quickly. "We'll just have to…improvise is all. We'll improvise! Wait here for a minute Stan. I'm going to get you a date."

With that, Randy hurried out of the room. Now, Stan, instead of just taking the opening to just walk out and leave, really showed off those Marsh genetics and remained standing where he was, waiting for Randy to return.

A few minutes later, his dad did return and what Stan saw…it made him wish that he had taken off when he had the chance.

"No Dad," he stated, glaring at his old man. "No!"

"C'mon Stan! It's your only chance!"

"Dad, no way."

"Stanley, you have to trust me!"

"NO!"

"Stan? Get back here! I am your father so you have to listen to me. Stan? Stan!"

* * *

><p>Charlie didn't feel like herself. She never felt like herself when liberal amounts of makeup were applied to her face, making her look like a completely different person. Eye shadow was not her thing. Fingernail polish was unheard of. High heels were held in her hands as she stood on her bare feet.<p>

She always preferred bare feet. There wasn't a sense of confinement that came with shoes. She valued her freedom in more ways than one and expressed them in a multitude of other behaviors. Bain had once told her that her name was the feminine form of Charles which meant "free man." In some ways, that was a really accurate description of her.

The gown she had to wear for this night was something she marginally accepted. Her mother had picked it out for her and Charlie didn't have it in her to disappoint her. She was wearing it though it was a bit tight. Not enough to cause discomfort once she got used to it but it troubled her a bit that she had been gaining a few pounds instead of losing them.

She must have been relaxed in more than one fashion. Whenever she was incredibly stressed, she always kept her weight gain in the negative and would thus lose some.

As a reminder of sorts, she wasn't the type of person who cared about her weight. It was just a topic she was using to distract herself from having to wait for her chauffeur to show up as well as ignore the presence beside her who happened to be in a surly mood.

The mental distraction didn't last very long, sad to say.

"You look like you're going to a funeral," she commented bluntly.

"Somewhere in the world right now there is a funeral being held," Damien replied. "Even with a happy occasion there is always a sad one occurring at the same time. You mortals are always so self-centered like that."

"Speak for yourself," Charlie grunted just as a familiar evil-looking car pulled up.

Her ride was here.

"Come on you demonic bastard, let's get this over with," she said and made her way towards the front passenger side. Damien snorted behind her but followed in her wake with no argument.

Naturally, if there was to be an argument, it would have to come from the driver.

"Why's he here?" Bain frowned as he watched Damien critically with sharp eyes. If those eyes were knives, they'd be sharpened down to an atom.

"He refuses to ride with anyone else," Charlie said bluntly. "He wants to go to the party tonight so you can see the problem."

Bain said nothing in reply, his eyes narrowed critically at the Antichrist, watching his movements like a hawk.

"Take a picture, it'll last longer," Damien snarked at the sociopath.

"One scratch and I don't care if you are the son of Satan, you will pay for it in blood," Bain promised because the psycho didn't make threats. Only promises.

Can you read the sarcasm there?

"Let's get this over with already," Charlie ordered. "I don't want to be caught in the middle of a cockfight between two egos."

"Always so eloquent," Bain replied dryly. Spotting her heels, he added, "I'll expect you to wear those once we arrive."

"Why don't you skip the foreplay and just bend her over," Damien snorted from the back. "That's what you're aiming for, is it not?"

Bain glared at Damien and the black-haired demon shrugged unfazed. There was definitely no love lost between those two.

"Get over yourself and drive," Charlie said. "You don't want to be late, do you?"

Noting how Bain was once again in the red button up and black sports jacket regale, typical of him to wear in any social occasion, Charlie settled in her seat, already praying to any deity out there to make this night move quickly.

"You know, I will never puzzle out just how you can pull off orange yet not pull it off at the same time," Bain said. "Of course, you have to continue being a paradox don't you?"

Without waiting for her reply, he ordered seat belts on as he put the car into drive. Keeping the brake on, he waited until Damien complied, which he didn't until Charlie herself intervened before it could get messy.

Damn Bain and his anal retentiveness towards his car. She refused to believe his excuse that he didn't want to get ticketed because that "dark souled son of a goat's bitch" refused to put the safety harness on. God he could be such a child sometimes. Both of them.

Once they were leaving the city limits of South Park, Charlie just needed to ask, "Where're we going, oh master of the road?"

"You'll see in due time," Bain replied, eyes on the road and not deigning to look at her.

Fucking cryptic asshole.

* * *

><p>Even with the setting sun, the Airport Hilton stood tall with pride even as the roar of jet engines broke the serenity of the landscape.<p>

On a sign, the words "SOUTH PARK SENIOR PROM CONGRATULATIONS SENIORS!" were spelt out, inviting all South Park seniors to come on in for the big night tonight.

* * *

><p>For Herbert Garrison, being stuck in a room crowded with high school seniors was as close to hell as you could get. The only thing that surpassed it was being stuck in a classroom of thirty of them for a couple hours at a time.<p>

But what really put this cankerous man in a foul mood was that no one had yet spiked the punch yet. Without a dose of liquid courage, how was he going to get through this night in one piece? Booze was the only reason why he had agreed to chaperone this event in the first place!

Maybe it had to do with that guy they got to act as security. The man was screening practically every person walking into the room with some of the most intrusive equipment you have ever seen.

Garrison was also sure that that man also worked as a bus driver for the school district. The driver of the late bus that everyone dreaded.

"Where do ya think yer going?" the bus driver turned security guard demanded, sneering at a recently arrived couple. "Security checkpoint asswipes. Get yer scrawny asses over here so I can, heh heh, pat ya down."

There was the snap of a latex glove slapping against tubby flesh.

Now that he thought about it, hadn't that driver also worked for the TSA at one point?

Christ, didn't these school administrators know that it was an age-old tradition for students to sneak booze into prom? It was ten years old but it was still a tradition damn it! He shifted his legs to try to relieve some of the discomfort he felt from his intrusive pat down. Strip search his ass, that was more like a prostate exam!

…maybe he should get his number for, eh, future "checkups"?

"Tryin' ta hide something from me, eh? Time for another strip search ya little shitstain!"

Moving along…

No, literally, moving along. He was putting some physical space between him and the front entrance. He needed to take his mind off his misery. Do something that would distract him and help him get through this night.

That was how he found himself next to the punch bowl, the red-colored beverage glimmering at him so temptingly. He felt how dry his throat was and before he knew what he was doing, he was pouring himself a cup. He sensed more than saw Mackey move close enough to watch him expectantly and Garrison weighed the cup critically, as if conducting some kind of obscure scientific test that would tell if there was indeed any alcohol in it.

Stalling long enough, he took a big swallow and tasted the liquid as it ran over his tongue. Mackey was holding his breath beside him, waiting for his verdict.

"Damn it, clean as a whistle," Garrison swore.

Mackey slumped his shoulders and lowered his eyes sadly.

"Goddamn why?" Garrison cried out, throwing the paper cup away. "Why'd they have to do it? Why'd they have to take the liquor away? Why?" He practically threw himself at Mackey, grabbing the school counselor by the lapels of his tux and burying his balding head into the extremely thin chest.

"It's going to be okay, m'kay," Mackey tried to soothe him. "We'll have to make it out somehow."

* * *

><p>"God what fags," Cartman scoffed as he watched the semi-homoerotic display between the two faculty members. "Do they have to do that in front of everybody?"<p>

"They look like they're at a funeral," Brianna commented.

"They keep doing that and they're going to end up at one," Cartman said. Brianna smacked the back of his head and he turned to glare at his date. "Ay! What the hell was that for?"

"Not in the mood for homophobic comments tonight," Brianna rolled her eyes at him and looked away.

"This is a free country, ho! I can say what I want!" Cartman retorted. "Just watch me! Fag, fag, fag, fag, fag, fag, fag!"

"Shut the hell up, I told you a million times that I'm not gay!" Jake shouted at him while just happening to walk by.

"I wasn't talking to you, butt pirate, but by the way, that suit looks pretty gay on you," Cartman replied.

"You're wearing the same thing!" Jake protested.

"Well I make it look straight," Cartman defended.

"Why are you giving me such a headache?" Brianna moaned.

"Sorry," Jake said apologetically.

"More proof that you aren't a real man," Cartman stated. "No real man would ever apologize to his bitch—what the fuck was that for? You punched me in the arm! Ow!"

"I'll do worse if you don't behave," Brianna threatened.

"That threat won't work on me if you won't follow through," Cartman said. "That's right, I'm back on top again. What'cha gonna do 'bout that, eh?"

"Strap on," Brianna said simply.

"Yes ma'am," Cartman said softly and submissively.

"Wow, I didn't know you were into that kind of stuff," Jake wondered out loud.

"I'm not! She is!" Cartman exclaimed, pointing at Brianna who didn't really care.

"Guess we know now who has the pants on," Jake smirked. "Toodle-loo," he said as he took off, hoping to get the last word.

"That just made you sound more gay than ever!" Cartman shouted at the retreating male's back.

"Not everything has to be a fight, you know," Brianna pointed out to him after a moment of relative silence, relative because the large room was still filled with a lot of talking people, creating a consistent murmur that existed in the background. It was a sound that was barely audible under the music being played by the disc jockey who had a funny way of speaking.

"Welcome-to-the-2012-South-Park-Senior-Prom, get-ready-to-get-your-funk-on-and-don't-forget-to-tip-your-waitress-and-coming-on-now, get-ready-and-put-your-hands-together, let's-hear-it-for Air Supply."

It's not often you could find someone who spoke so fast that you couldn't tell that there were spaces between words.

"Of course there has to be a fight!" Cartman declared. "Life would be boring without them!"

Brianna sighed as the beginning of _All Out of Love_ began to play and she cast Cartman a deadpanned look. "Ever get tired?"

"Well, yeah, I mean it gets old when people don't bow down to your authoritah and you have to get enforcing that you're the coolest kid in school and—holy shit, what the hell is that?" Cartman began to explain before something caught his eye.

* * *

><p>Stan wanted to die right about now. Seriously. This was just beyond humiliating.<p>

Right in front of the door, there was the bus driver who was giving them a leer that basically said that nothing good was about to happen here. The bus driver looked like he was chewing something in his mouth but his jaw wasn't moving that much due to the double chins he had masking the movement.

"What's in tha box, boy?" the bus driver asked, motioning to the large box that Stan was hauling at his side. "Wouldn't happen ta be _booze_ would it?"

"Nope, not at all," Stan answered.

It was obvious, however, that the bus driver was not interested in the box but more in the person that was at his side. "Who's yer date?"

Stan sighed. He could not believe he was doing this.

"This is…Princess Leia of Aulderan," he introduce, looking at the white-dressed figure with brown hair and the presence of a black mustache that ruined the whole effect. Randy Marsh was looking away, scratching at his neck, two obvious signs that he had something to hide.

"She's a real looker," the bus driver said, ogling his father…ew! That was just…that was just wrong! "I think I might have ta search this one _extra_ close."

This could not get any worse.

"Can't you just, let us go in?" his father asked, doing absolutely nothing to try and mask his voice.

"Sorry lil' lady but I have ta check e'erybody fer alcohol," the bus driver answered. "Lady Principal's orders. Course, I dun mind checkin' you out, heh heh."

Jesus fucking Christ, was this disgusting fat man hitting on his _father_?

"Um, okay, don't panic Stan, I know what to do here," Randy said. Raising a hand up, he waved his hand in front of the bus driver's face and said, "These are not the droids you're looking for."

The bus driver stared blankly at them and then said, "Lady, I have no idea what yer doin' but it's turning me on."

If things were this bad at the door, Stan couldn't imagine just how worse they would get once they were inside, _if_ they got inside.

"Can I just go in?" Stan asked, exasperatedly.

"Not with that box, you ain't," the bus driver turned screener answered.

"What if I let you check out my dad—I mean Princess Leia?" Stan proposed.

"Stan!" his dad cried out, aghast.

"You drive a hard bargain," the bus driver said and then looked perversely at the disguised Randy. "Very…hard…" he mumbled.

Randy gripped the younger Marsh by his arm. "Don't leave me here with him," the man whimpered.

"Let go!" Stan hissed at his father.

"Don't leave me!" his father begged.

"Don't know what'cher talkin' 'bout but I know I'm willin' to get ta know this li'l lady bettah," the bus driver said, not taking his eyes off Randy.

"Stan!" his father hissed.

"She's all yours!" Stan pronounced as he finally managed to slip around the bus driver's girth.

"Stan? Don't leave me with Jabba the Hut here! Stan? Staaaan!" Randy cried after his son as the teen slipped away into the crowd of seniors.

Sorry Dad but Stan really needed to get in here. One day you'd forgive him for the loss of your gay cherry. Maybe not today but someday…

Now let's see, where could he find Kyra? Hopefully she was going to show up tonight. There was no doubt in Stan's mind she would show up and he had a good feeling that if anything, Gary would convince her to come regardless of what had happened between them.

She just had to be here otherwise he couldn't put his awesome plan into action!

Come on, come on, where were you Kyra? You had to be here, somewhere around here. You just had to be!

…damn it, where was that cinematic moment where the crowd would magically part and show him just where Kyra was? The movies lied to him! Why did he put so much stock into them anyway? They did nothing but get him into trouble. Like getting him grounded for copying bad language, getting him nearly killed in the middle of the following war, getting abducted by Steven Spielberg and George Lucas, getting chased down by Mel Gibson because of the principle of getting his money back…wow, that was a lot of shit. Why did he even keep watching movies—hold on a second.

There she was, sitting down at one of the many tables scattered around. Christ. All that stuff with Wendy 2 had cost him the chance to be right there next to her. He couldn't afford to screw up anymore, not when there was so much to gain.

"Stan! Ey, Stan!"

He did not need to hear that voice right now.

"What do you want Cartman?" he demanded, turning towards his fatter classmate.

"What'd you do? You'd who have to screw?" Cartman demanded right back, grabbing Stan by his shoulders.

"What are you talking about?" Stan wondered.

"You damn know well what I'm talking about," Cartman seethed. "How'd you land Princess Leia you asshole!"

Stan paused, looked towards the front entrance then back to Cartman. "Are you sure you're not related to the fat asswipe that drives the late bus?" he asked.

* * *

><p>"Alright, alright, it's fucking Prom! Time to partay!" Gwendolyn crowed as she made her way passed an unguarded front entrance, Wolf trudging behind her nervously.<p>

"I'm really not feeling comfortable about that," Wolf said quietly behind her, eyes darting around nervously.

"Shut up already and take my arm," Gwendolyn ordered. "We need to look like a couple so that Stan will get jealous and get back together with me."

"Um, that…doesn't really work in real life," Wolf attempted to point out.

"Take. It."

"Taking it like you asked," Wolf said quickly as he hooked his arm with hers.

"That's better," Gwendolyn said, a smug smile curling her lips.

She searched through all the students, spotting a few faces she knew, some she had seen in passing, and some she didn't like due to the person those faces were attached to. One of those faces was coming up next to her.

"Hey Bonnie, where's your date?" Gwendolyn sneered at one of her greatest rivals. "Doesn't look like you have one. At least I have, uh, this guy."

Wolf raised an eyebrow at her.

"Why are you being such a bi…such a bi…such a not very nice person?" Bonnie grumbled, looking away after being unable to say what she really wanted to say.

"Because you were a bitch to me," Gwendolyn said innocently, having no problems with saying the word that Bonnie had trouble with. "It's fair play, isn't it?"

"You must be a very lonely person if all you do is try and get back at people," Bonnie said, shaking her head in disappointment.

"I'm not lonely! I have this guy!" Gwendolyn glared at her rival while shaking Wolf to emphasize her point. "Whatever, I got places to be. Let's bounce."

As she led her date away from her rival, Wolf stumbling after her mainly due to the fact that she still had a grip on his arm, he managed to say, "That was a bit, whoa, a bit rude of you, wasn't it?"

"She took away from me a group that I worked painstakingly to make, forgive me if I'm not too keen on getting along with her," Gwendolyn spat out. "How would you like it if someone took your store or whatever you call it?"

"Wouldn't happen because I'd kill whoever tried," Wolf replied a bit too easily.

"What?" Gwendolyn blinked at him.

"Wouldn't happen because I'd never allow it," Wolf corrected.

"Right," Gwendolyn rolled her eyes. Not paying attention to where she was going, she almost ran into someone who wasn't about to let her walk all over them.

"Watch where you're going Wendy 2," Ella warned.

"Again with that Goddamn name," Gwendolyn swore.

"Wow, you're hot," Clyde commented from beside Ella. With a quick look to said girl, he said, "Just looking."

"Don't let it get to your head," Ella mumbled looking away shyly.

"Okay," Clyde agreed dumbly.

Gwendolyn frowned at this. "Are you two together?"

"Clyde? I'm kinda thirsty, can you get me something to drink?" Ella asked.

"Sure," Clyde shrugged and walked off.

Once it seemed like Ella was sure he was out of earshot, she turned back to Gwendolyn. "Yes, we are, no thanks to you."

Gwendolyn frowned at that. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"You made MUFFDIVER to help girls like me get together with the boys they liked," Ella said. "Not once in all my time in that group did you ever help me do anything to get closer to Clyde. Then when it's just me and I'm all alone, I walk up to him and ask if I could take him to Prom. He said yes. I didn't even need MUFFDIVER to do that."

"Well…if you look at it this way, if you hadn't gotten frustrated with your lack of progress, you wouldn't have gone up to him in the first place so MUFFDIVER did help you," Gwendolyn felt the need to try and point out or at least salvage some credit.

"I just want to let you know that I'm out now," Ella said. "I want nothing to do with any MUFFDIVERs or anything. You leave me alone and you can keep that group for all I care."

"Is it me or did you sound homophobic for a second?" Wolf asked. The two girls gave him a look and he meekly shrunk in on himself.

"That's fine; I accept your resignation," Gwendolyn stated. "But if this blows up in your face because you didn't have MUFFDIVER support, don't come crying back to me."

"I don't cry," Ella replied coldly.

"Then crawling on your knees and begging, whatever," Gwendolyn dismissed. "Listen, have you seen Stan anywhere?"

Ella quirked an eyebrow at him. "Stan?"

"Yeah, I was hoping to talk with him," Gwendolyn said casually.

"Probably shouldn't do that," Clyde said, returning with a cup of punch in hand which he gave to Ella. "He just showed up a bit ago and he was with Princess Leia. Lucky bastard."

"Oh snap!" Wolf cursed, looking around hopefully.

The girls stared at him. Then Gwendolyn exclaimed, "WHAT?"

* * *

><p>"It's so pretty," Violet said in wonder as she couldn't stop twisting her head around to get a good look at all the visual aspects prom had to offer. "They really did a good job, didn't they Kyle?"<p>

"Sure, looks neat," Kyle said, not really caring about aesthetics but agreeing because he didn't want to potentially start something.

"I wonder if they're going to have karaoke?" Violet wondered aloud. "I'd love to sing again."

"No! I mean, I think there are some people around here who aren't, eh, mature enough? To handle your singing. Best you save it for people who would appreciate it," Kyle exclaimed and then tried to explain why she shouldn't grace anyone with her…"singing."

"I'm sure they would change their minds if they just heard me," Violet said.

"Trust me on this one, we have Cartman here and he doesn't give constructive criticism to anybody," Kyle explained. "He's like a troll, a flamer that stalks you, doesn't go away, and says that everything you do either sucks or you should kill yourself, or both."

"Why would I need constructive criticism?" Violet asked.

"Even the best singers get them, it's something you get used to," Kyle said.

"I didn't know that," Violet said, eyes wide like an innocent child's.

"The more you know," Kyle muttered under his breath, somewhat glad that he had seemingly prevented another catastrophe from occurring. Third time was suppose to be the charm here, right?

"Hey Kyle!" Kenny came up from behind, slinging an arm around the young Jew's shoulder, grinning toothily. "What's happening, man? Ooh, you bring her? Nice eye candy!"

"Kenny!" Kyle groaned despite Violet giggling. "Aren't you here with somebody?" he asked, trying to distract his blond friend from talking them into dangerous territory. There were things he didn't quite want to get out to Violet just yet, things that would change her mind about her perceptions of him, things that once said could not be unsaid.

Kinda got a bit dramatic there but really, he didn't want Kenny gossiping about the juicy details of his childhood like that game of ooky-mouth they had to play when they were kids. A disgusting game, that.

"Goin' stag, man," Kenny answered cheerfully. "The night is young and I don't want to deprive anyone of this stud muffin. Anybody in need of some Kenny lovin' can get their dose of it right here."

Violet was borderline giggling, borderline laughing at this point, finding the blond to be humorous but Kyle was a bit too desensitized.

"You're basically going to whore yourself out until someone agrees to sleep with you, aren't you?" he asked in a deadpan.

"Can't get anything pass you," Kenny chuckled. "But in all serious, we're going to find out just who's going to win prom king tonight. I win and girls are going to pour all over me. Gotta leave my options open."

"I know a girl that would like to talk with you," Violet said, speaking up perkily.

"You do, do you?" Kenny looked at the smaller girl, looking her up and down appraisingly while muttering, "Definitely size B point nineteen."

Not hearing the seemingly odd pick of words, Violet said, "We hang out in the same group and she told me how much she would like to meet with you. She's just shy and thinks you're going to ignore her or think she's uncool."

Kyle gave Violet a look. What was she doing? Recalling what he had been told by that DJ girl, he began to get a bit uncomfortable. Wasn't that group Violet was a part of a bunch of girls who were treating guys more like sacks of meat that needed to be claimed?

"All she has to do is say when, where, and how hard," Kenny winked at Violet. "But I want to warn you, I like everybody. You can't tie ol' Kenny down with matrimony. It would cruelly deprive others of the special sauce that only I can make."

"You make your own special sauce?" Violet asked.

"Kenny," Kyle groaned.

"What?" Kenny asked. "I'm just telling her about my sauce. Everybody likes it. You even like it. You lick it off your fingers all the time and if you can, you try to lick it off your face. Everybody can't get enough of it."

"Wait, what sauce are you talking about?" Kyle asked for clarification.

"My barbeque sauce, not a McCormick family recipe," Kenny said. "What? What did you think I meant?"

"I've been hanging around you too much," Kyle muttered.

"'Cause if you were thinking I was talking about my jizz, well, I was also talking about that," Kenny admitted cheerfully.

"Dude!" Kyle exclaimed while Violet began to give the blond a dubious look.

"Kyle!" another voice called his name out. Soon enough, Stan appeared and if Kyle wasn't mistaken, there was that gleam of determination in his blue eyes. Wonder what got him fired up now.

"What is it Stan?" he asked wearily. He was supposed to be here having a good time with Violet but he had a feeling he might have to do things that were going to be completely unrelated to that. Spotting the box that his best friend was lugging around, he asked, "Didn't you buy that thing the other day?"

"I need your help getting this on," Stan pleaded. "I found Kyra and I have this awesome plan to get her attention and everything but I need your help!"

"Can't you see I'm with someone here?" Kyle said exasperatedly.

Stan's eyes flickered, looking around at the people closest to the Jew. "You're with Kenny?"

"Violet," Kyle corrected, glaring at his best friend. Said girl waved a hand in greeting.

"Oh, right, girl with the killer teeth," Stan said.

"Killer teeth?" Violet asked.

"He doesn't mean anything by that," Kyle said sharply. Then back to his friend, "Stan, what are you up to?"

"Yeah, what are you up to?" Kenny chimed in.

"Something that's going to fix everything between me and Kyra," Stan said. "Hey Kenny? Do me a favor would you? If you see my…date, can you distract him?"

"Him? Are you batting for the other team now?" Kenny demanded.

"Staaaaaan!" a new voice cried out.

"Oh Jesus," Stan groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose as a white clad figure emerged out of the crowd and practically pressed itself against the teen's side.

Kyle was flabbergasted. Was that Princess Lei—was that a mustache? Kyle knew that mustache, had seen it so many times he knew it by sight.

"Mr. Marsh?" he voice cracked as he stared at Stan's disguised father incredulously.

Pausing in his loud and vocal display of dismay, Randy Marsh said, "I do not know whom you are talking about, sir. I am Princess Leia of Aulderan and not any incredibly handsome and hunky man that managed to knock this young man's mother up."

"Dad!" Stan exclaimed.

"Staaaaan! I'm Princess Leia, not your awesome dad," Randy Marsh whined.

"Damn it Stan, how do you always get the good ones?" Kenny complained. "First Wendy and now Princess Leia?"

Now Kyle felt the need to pinch the bridge of his nose. The only way this could get any worse is if someone else popped up and started some bullshit drama.

"Hey Stan, how's it going?" the coy voice of Wendy 2 popped up. "Who is this woman beside you? She looks like Princess Leia."

Enter the bullshit drama.

"Oh, eh, Wendy 2, nice to, uh, see you," Stan said back, uncomfortable.

"Who's the hot chick?" Randy Marsh whispered into Stan's ear, Kyle, unfortunately, was able to overhear it and he had to grimace.

"I'm having a blast here," Wendy 2 boasted, sounding very plastic. "Have you met my date? He's a businessman."

"Wolf Black," Stan nodded. "We've…met before."

"How are those "How to get a Girlfriend for Dummies" books coming along?" Wolf asked pleasantly.

"I thought that was confidential!" Stan hissed.

"Oops," Wolf shrugged, not in the least bit repentant.

Kyle shook his head; this was getting out of control here. Then again, it hadn't been in control in the first place. It wasn't even worth getting under control in the first place.

"Hey, aren't you the one who's been sexually harassing Stan?" Kenny asked, narrowing his eyes at Wendy 2.

"You were sexually harassed by her?" Randy Marsh gasped. "Nice."

"I didn't harass anybody!" Wendy 2 defended.

"Why won't you sexually harass me?" Wolf asked, frowning at her.

"Why don't you abort that train of thought," Wendy 2 snapped at him.

Wolf…had a peculiar reaction to that. He stuck his fingers into his ears, ripping his arm away from Wendy 2 and began to say loudly "la, la, la, la, la!" over and over for a full minute while everyone around him stared at him in disbelief.

Coming back to himself and realizing he had an audience, Wolf chuckled nervously and said, "Sorry…uh…force of habit."

Whatever. Let Stan handle this on his own. Kyle was getting the hell away from here.

"C'mon Violet," he said, grabbing his date's hand. "Let's…mingle somewhere else."

"Where're you going Kyle? Kyle?" Stan called after him.

Kyle blatantly ignored his best friend as he sought to get lost.

* * *

><p>Was this truly the best they could do? Curtains, ribbons, and banners? They could have saved themselves a pretty penny and kept this shit back at the school.<p>

Yes, DJ was scornful and playing at interior decorator but she wasn't about to give anything involving Bain a complement. She had still yet to figure out a way to get back at him, or at least come up with something that would stick on him. Why she was here instead of staying in the comfort of her own home…well that was a good question.

At least she hadn't dressed up. There was no way she was going to get all fancy for something that was only going to last a few hours and that she wouldn't enjoy herself at. That and nobody had forced her into more formal getup.

She crossed her arms over her chest as she moped in a seat she had pulled out, her sour mood effectively preventing others from taking or sitting in the table's remaining chairs. Sour mood couldn't even begin to describe just how dark her mood was.

So many people were here, all trying to have a good time. Pah, what a joke. Sure they'd have a good time tonight but many were going to be paying for it nine months from now if you know what she meant.

A chair at her table was pulled back and someone took the seat, thus rendering the previous statement of her mood preventing others from sitting at her table moot.

Who was it…oh, it was that girl Mari. Huh, girl looked just like she herself felt. Frustrated by something or more likely someone if DJ guessed right.

"What are you looking at?" Mari grumbled, peering up at her for a moment and then looking away. "I won't make any problems if you won't make any."

Fair enough.

Looking away from her unwanted company, DJ spotted a few MUFFDIVERs and LESBIANs who were glued to the sides of certain males. The girls themselves looked like they had won the lottery while the guys had differing levels of enthusiasm. Heh, wouldn't it be ironic if the guys had been the ones who were asked out and had agreed just so they wouldn't be dateless losers?

"Christ, she just doesn't quit," Mari muttered and DJ looked in the direction that the other girl was looking in. It was easy to see who Mari was referring to; there was an excited or frantic-looking Roxann Thame moving around, apparently searching for someone. Yeah, Mari and this girl had been hanging out a lot with each other, hadn't they?

"What she want?" DJ asked. Don't think this was out of being helpful or curiosity. DJ just wanted to know if she was going to be bothered by any drama that might occur should Roxann find Mari. That was all.

"She's been bemoaning her loss of confidence as an inept superhero," Mari answered surprisingly. "She wasn't even that good in the first place. Now she's having a crisis in faith and she won't stop dragging me into it."

"She thinks she's a superhero?" DJ deadpanned in disbelief. She had always believed this girl had been a ditz but really.

"She's obsessed with that Mysterion invention of Kenny McCormick's," Mari continued to speak. "It's gone so far that she's created her own persona. Pathetic if you ask me."

"Sounds like it too," DJ agreed.

"Practically almost gotten herself killed on numerous occasions too," Mari said. "She gets Wendy worked up and gets labeled as a lesbian rapist. Now that had been fun. The lynch mob and everything. And then while trying to make a supervillian for herself, she almost gets drowned by one. I would have choked the life out of her had she not fought me off. Oh wait, get this. The first night she goes out, she stalks Kenny to a construction site where he gets into a fight with that Rod guy, same one who dies that night."

"You don't say," DJ says, not in the least bit interested.

"Gets thrown out of the building by that psycho Bain. Had Kenny not saved her ass, I would've been spared a lot of fucking grief," Mari continued to spill out.

However, DJ's attention was perked up.

"She saw Bain there? As in Bain Cynis?" she demanded.

"Kept calling him a supervillain and despite the fact that he's literally under her nose, she hasn't 'found' him yet," Mari scoffed.

"And you know all this?" DJ pressed.

"I was there, her fucking wire-fighting crew," Mari scoffed.

A witness. Someone who could place Bain there at the time of Rod's death. And not just one but two! Oh she had you now, asshole.

"What else can you tell me?" she asked, more interested in ever in Mari's tale of woe.

* * *

><p>Bain eyed the room critically from his seat, his trenchcoat hanging off the back of his chair, not worn as it usually would be. He searched for flaws or places that could have been done better, and had already found a dozen of them. The refreshment tables could have been pushed back, the floral decorations on the tables could have had a better design and the squared off space where the teenaged attendees could dance if they chose too could have been bigger.<p>

That was the things that came to him right off the bat. Closer looks at other things, like just how much room the stage where the disc jockey was taking residence was much bigger than he had presumed and the speed to which snack plates were replenished, were just another couple to name off.

Basically, a lot of things could have been better. This is what you got when you had _girls_ do all the manual labor. If there had been some guys, this would have been a lot more decent.

"What are you so pissy about?" Charlotte asked from her seat.

"Nothing that you can do anything about," Bain muttered.

"What was that?" Charlotte asked, not hearing him.

He didn't reply because, quite frankly, he didn't feel like repeating or elaborating. It was annoying to do, even with Charlotte, and if you couldn't keep up the first time, there was no point trying to help simpletons was there? Combating the forces of stupidity was truly tiring.

"You know, I think I figured it out," Charlotte said. "You're the one that set this whole thing up and now you're looking like one of those spoiled sweet sixteen girls."

She did not just compare him to a spoiled sixteen year old.

"Ever hear of 'it's my party and I'll cry if I want to'?" he phrased bitingly.

"That's an old ass song," Charlotte replied. "You can do better than that."

"I'm criticizing the work ethic of a group of seventeen to eighteen year old females who are so wrapped up with themselves that they can't make a decent floral arrangement," Bain stated.

"You would…do what you just said," Charlotte said, a bit lamely in Bain's opinion.

"Was that above your level? I'll try to keep it simpler. If only you weren't such a challenge," Bain drawled, his smirk turning into a lazy yet toothy grin.

"Fuck off," Charlotte growled at him, her eyes glowering.

"Always so elegant," Bain taunted. Flashing a look towards the DJ (no reference to that one female that had a grudge against him), he waited a moment until the fast talking man replaced the song currently ending with another one that was a bit slower paced than its predecessor. Good timing there.

Standing up, he held a hand out to a sharp Charlotte who was watching his every move like he was a snake about to strike. "Care for a dance?" he offered. "I'm feeling restless."

"You just want to show off your ballroom moves," Charlotte accused though there was a hint of teasing in there, no malice detectable.

"You won't look like a fool so long as you allow me to lead," Bain avowed. "You don't really want to sit in one place all night, do you?"

"You always do know what buttons to press," Charlotte admitted begrudgingly and as she made to stand up by herself, disregarding Bain's hand in the process, she paused for a moment before strangely enough taking the offered appendage. "Lead away then, lover boy."

"My pleasure," Bain growled in a somewhat playful manner as he led her out into the cornered off floor space. "I won't lead you astray," he added as he assumed the position of a waltz, making quick adjustments to Charlotte's pose before starting the steps.

* * *

><p>Josh Myers had not taken a step into the actual room but he observed the festivities of the prom occurring inside from the hallway. He was in no frame of mind to allow that large, beefy, middle-aged man who had this aura of disgruntlement about him near him.<p>

Not a person to play games with. He had had one too many cavity searches in juvie, thank you very much.

The children within that room seemed like they were having a good time but Josh wouldn't really know that. He had never been to a prom before. For all he knew, they might be bored out of their minds.

Well, if Axman's plans went through, they wouldn't be bored for long. He turned away from the festivities and headed towards the elevators, picking up two very large bags off the floor and taking them with him.

From one of the bags, a strip of toilet paper peeked out, a silent warning of things to come.

* * *

><p>Stan had managed to escape from the drama that seemed to trail him everywhere he went. It was exhausting to be honest, especially when hauling the box with him. It didn't look like he would be getting any help from his friends any time soon and with his dad—<p>

"Stan? Where did you go? Staaaaaan!"

—being his dad, it was going to take a lot of elbow grease to put this crap on and a lot of balls to pull this stunt off.

Anything for Kyra, though. Damien had said it himself. If he wanted her back, he was going to have to be prepared to give up everything, including his dignity. What small shred of dignity he still had, that is.

Sneaking up to the DJ (he could swear that someone in their class also went by that name), he managed to convince the guy to do him a favor, a favor that was sealed with a paper Honest Abe, but sealed nonetheless.

Now he had to sneak away and get ready. It was going to be a hassle but once he was ready, the DJ would put on a number especially for him.

If this didn't send it home to that girl, Stan would resign himself to whatever humiliation his father would inflict on him.

* * *

><p>"Staaaan! Where are you hiding? Don't leave me to become some sexual slave to Jabba the Hut over there! Staaaaan!" Princess Leia ran by and Gary watched the spectacle with undying interest.<p>

"Wow, who'd've thought we'd have Princess Leia at our prom?" he asked out loud to Kyra. "What are the odds that Luke will show up?"

"I haven't played any of the Star Wars games so I have no idea who you're talking about," Kyra answered honestly.

"Um, I was talking about the movies," Gary explained. "The ones that were made before the games."

"You're talking about those? Oh! Oh, right, sorry, wasn't paying attention," Kyra said, taking a sip from her cup of non-alcoholic punch.

"You seem a bit off tonight," Gary said, looking closely at his friend. "You need to leave early? Not feeling well or something?"

"Nah, I'm okay, just a little out of it," Kyra answered. Hoping to change the subject, she asked, "So did you ask anyone to come with you tonight?"

"No," Gary shrugged. "Then again, it's not like anyone came up to me either. I just didn't see anyone who I'd want to take out with me. Guess I'm going stag as they say."

"Guess I'm going stag too," Kyra said.

"Don't get so down about it," Gary said to her. "Not everything's going to be perfect for everyone; that's just not possible in life. You just gotta make do with what you have with the time that has been given to you."

"Okay, I think that last part came from _Lord of the Rings_," Kyra said. "I know I saw those in theaters."

"Eh, it was about half of it," Gary admitted sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. "But still, you have to admit it sounded poignant."

"Don't ever change, Gary, can you promise me that?" Kyra asked, smiling tiredly at the blond.

"I'll do what I can," Gary promised. "Now, you want something to eat? They have snacks somewhere around here, I'm sure."

"Thinking with your stomach?" Kyra teased.

"It's the true master of a guy's body," Gary winked at her. "We like to make you think we think with our crotch. It's all a big deception."

The disc jockey began to speak, his speech sped up and words flowing right into one another but neither of the two paid any attention to that. Kyra was too busy smacking Gary's arm playfully. "You guys. Trying to pull a fast one on us girls aren't you?"

"It's working, isn't it?" Gary said as an odd beat began to pound out of the speakers. "Speaking of working," Gary continued, his head tilting to a side, "do you recognize this? It sounds familiar but I can't quite put my finger on it."

Wondering what Gary was talking about, Kyra also tilted her head to a side, trying to listen in. The music that was playing sounded so very familiar yet she just couldn't place what it was. "What is that?" she wondered out loud.

The duo concerned themselves with this most pressing of topics, wracking their minds from where they had heard it before.

Then came the phrase of _domo arigato Mr. Roboto_, and just at the two began to say the obvious title of this musical selection, there was a cry from a portion of the crowd of high school seniors and the two found their attentions being directed towards…

The Master Chief. Or at least someone dressed like the Master Chief. He, or maybe it was a she, was slowly marching robotically onto the cordoned off dance area when, for the sake of simplicity, he began doing…the Robot.

Kyra felt her jaw fall open as she stared at the sight. There…there were no words, other than besmirching, that could describe what was happening right now. She wanted to laugh but at the same time punch this guy's lights out for ever ingraining the sight of one of the greatest video game characters ever made doing such a dumbass dance like this.

Who would even think that this was a good idea?

Even as she watched it, she was distracted by it and so was taken by surprise when the figure of the Master Chief was only about ten feet away from her and closing. No, he didn't just…he was not standing there and extending his arm out, moving only his elbow so that his arm swung lazily like it was on some kind of hinge. He did not just "reset" himself. He did not just robotically move his arms like he was pumping them as he took step after agonizing step towards her.

Sigh, yes, yes he was doing all that. He was destroying the dignity of the Master Chief. This could not go on. This could not be allowed to go on. To let it was to just further tarnish the symbol of badassery that was the Master Chief.

She was so much into her seething that she did not watch as the Master Chief raised his hands up and towards his helmet, starting to remove that which should never be removed and removed it.

"Hey Kyra," a sweaty looking Stan greeted. "How ya doing?"

"It was Stan all along?" Gary gasped, blurting out what was now obvious.

"Stan?" Kyra's voice cracked. "What are you doing?"

"Getting your attention. Is it working?" Stan asked hopefully.

"You got everyone's attention," Kyra stated blandly.

In the background, you could hear Cartman call out, "What a fuckin' fag!"

"I just want to say that I am so sorry about what happened and that I'm willing to do anything to get you back," Stan said. "I'll give it all up, even my dignity. Just please Kyra, give me a chance. Just one more chance. That's all I ask for."

Kyra looked him up and down. She began to open her mouth to say—

"What are you doing? What's with that dumb get up?" And enter Wendy 2 stage right. Wolf managed to pry himself away from the girl and stand a ways from the scene, coming to stand next to Token.

Softly, he commented to Token, "Damn this shit's starting to heat up. You know, we Blacks need to stick together if we're gonna get through this."

Token gave the young entrepreneur a look but no one else commented on it as they were more engrossed with the drama taking place by the dance floor.

"Not now Wendy 2, this is not the time," Stan said, not even looking at the girl, his eyes on Kyra and Kyra alone. His blue eyes were intense and Kyra found that she was starting to tremble under them a bit.

"What's so special about her, huh?" Wendy 2 demanded. "She's so ordinary looking!"

"She has a heart of gold and a more developed personality," Stan stated. "And she's stronger than you, that much I know."

"Stronger? What does that even mean?" Wendy2 grumbled as she crossed her arms.

Yeah, what did that mean? Kyra tensed as she awaited Stan's answer.

"She doesn't need to attach herself to someone in order to stand tall," Stan said at last. "She doesn't define herself by her relationship with anyone. She's not reliant on a guy that she might be crushing on and she doesn't spend her time trying to force herself into someone's life if they're not interested or anything. She's not like a lot of girls in this crazy-ass school even if you think she's ordinary and lame. And she doesn't treat me like I'm some kind of piece of meat that you can just walk up to and say 'he's mine so go find someone else'. I don't belong to her and she doesn't belong to me and I like that.

"Sure you gots some boobs on you but a relationship is more than just boobs! Kinda hard to imagine that but that's what it is! You don't just go up to someone and a relationship just magically appears; you have to work to make one first. It's a progress. You can't have something from nothing! Just…I'm sorry if I gave you any wrong ideas and I'm really sorry that I dragged you into my problems in the first place Wendy 2. You deserve someone better than me so I wish you the best of luck in whatever you want to do in the future and I really mean that.

"So please excuse me would you while I try to get the girl I want, that I have built a relationship with, back."

Kyra darted her eyes back and forth from Stan and Wendy 2, watching it with open curiosity and invested in the turnout. It was when Stan turned back to her that she remembered that she was every bit involved with this whole thing as were the other two participants. She swallowed nervously as many other people's attentions were directed towards her and while she had gotten better with social stuff, being in the center of attention was not something she looked forward to.

"Kyra," Stan began.

"I am not about to lose you!" Wendy 2 interrupted, spinning Stan around to face her. "We dated too, remember? We had a lot of fun times! Don't those mean anything to you, huh? I want those back too! Why can't I?"

"I had some fun but those times are also over," Stan said.

"So's whatever you had between you and her!" Wendy 2 exclaimed. "I'm right here and willing!"

"But you don't have anything I like in a person other than your boobs," Stan said. "Sorry Wendy 2 but I don't think it could have lasted between you. And my motives to date you in the first place weren't the best and were very deceptive. A relationship built on deception is no relationship at all."

He pried her hands off him and stepped away but Wendy 2 wasn't about to give up without a fight. She made to grab him again but then the last person anyone expected to get involved in this got in the way.

"Give it up Gwendolyn," Wendy, the original one, intervened. "Stan's found someone he already likes and it's not you. Show some class and let him make his own decisions and don't force him to accept ones that aren't his. Besides, aren't you here with Wolf?"

In the background, Wolf was making a slicing motion over his throat as if trying to say "don't bring me into this!"

As the drama began to shift towards Wendy and Wendy 2, Stan physically shifted closer to Kyra, devoting all his attention at her. "Kyra, have I done or said anything just now that makes what I'm trying to tell you unclear?" he asked.

It was fairly obvious what this was all about and Kyra shook her head in the negative.

"So…will you take me back? Please?" he asked her.

Kyra gulped, thoughts racing through her mind. What was she going to say? She meant, what was the whole point of Stan making a fool of himself as well as mocking the Master Chief? Was it forgiveness? To show what lengths he would go to just to have her agree to be his girlfriend again? And did she necessarily want to?

You know what, fuck it. She was going to say the first thing that came to mind. What was going to be her immediate answer to Stan asking her to get together again? Might as well do that for all the answers thinking about it was giving her.

As she began to open her mouth to speaking, Stan watching her as he waited for her every word, she was prevented from saying anything when there was a shriek behind Stan and her armor-clad ex stumbled right into her without warning.

Behind her, Wendy and Wendy 2 were currently engaged in what looked like to be the ultimate catfight. There was spitting, hair pulling, and attempted eye gouging with fingernails while everyone gave the two combatants wide berth.

Pretty much what happened at every catfight.

Looks like her answer was going to have to wait.

* * *

><p>"How perfect," Bain growled, glaring in the general direction of all the commotion. "You can't trust those harpies to remain civil for an hour before they start trying to tear one another apart."<p>

"Don't you have to go over there?" Charlotte asked him. "I mean, you are head of the prom committee. Aren't you supposed to handle this shit when it happens?"

"I'm only in charge of setup. This is all out of my realm of authority," Bain replied. "And I thought you knew, never try to break up a catfight."

"Why's that?" Charlotte raised an eyebrow skeptically at him.

"Watch exhibit A," Bain gestured.

"You little bitches oughta be 'shamed of yerselves," the bus driver turned security guard blasted at the fighting cunts. "Got all tha crap I nevah had growin' up. Do I need ta get out mah whompin' stick? Break it up. Break it up ya little—she's bitin' me! Stop scratchin' mah face! Where'd ya get that broken bottle? Aaaaahhhhhrrrrrrr!"

"I rest my case," Bain said.

Charlotte pinched the bridge of her nose, unknowingly copying the signature gesture of a certain Master Chief impersonator. "Why am I so surprised?"

"That is a good question. Care to answer?" Bain said.

"Knowing you'll get a sick sense of satisfaction out of it, no," Charlotte rebuffed. Always the spoilsport.

"You look a bit under the weather," he said after a moment of silence, leading the taller girl back towards their table. "You need some fresh air?

"Don't try to be coy with me," Charlotte stated. "You're trying to convince me to step outside for a bit while you sneak around and put into action some kind of grand plan that's supposed to ruin this night for everybody here."

Bain stared at her and could only hope that he did not betray any sign of shock. "How long have you known?" he asked quietly.

"In some way, I've always known," Charlotte sighed, looking away. "You volunteer to head up prom committee was the dead giveaway. You never get involved in things unless you get some kind of payoff out of it. 'Course, you had to distract everyone from watching you and that's where the whole prom queen stuff came in. I bet you were the one to start that rumor that the two who win have sex with one another and then get married."

Bain pointedly said nothing about that, preferring to look away.

"You really are predicable, it's just that no one pays enough attention to you to figure that out," Charlotte finished.

"So why aren't you doing anything about it?" Bain asked quietly.

"What would be the point?" Charlotte shrugged. "You once asked me a year ago why I always stood in your way. Well, this time I'm not. Go on and have your fun. I'll wait outside until you're done."

Bain raised a skeptical brow at her. "You are seriously okay with this? Forgive me for doubting your uncharacteristic indifference but I find this statement of yours suspect. You always do like spoiling my fun and then there are all the miscreants around us that you seem to enjoy protecting…"

"It's not worth it," Charlotte said, looking away. "It was strange and disturbing but…sweet, I guess, of you to try and remake something my mom and…dad had when they were this age. And even if I did try and stop you, you probably have all these contingencies in place that'll get around anything I can do. So what's the point?"

"That's very jaded of you but I'll respect your decision for once," Bain said. Slipping off the sports jacket he wore, he placed it on Charlotte's slightly broader shoulders. "To keep you warm in case you feel nippy," he said before she could ask what he was doing. "Besides, I need a change of…costume I suppose you could call it," he explained further as he snagged his trenchcoat and stuck an arm into one of its sleeves. "Do be careful; any pain you may suffer I prefer to be the direct cause of instead of being an indirect one."

"Whatever," Charlotte rolled her eyes at him.

* * *

><p>Roxi was feeling really lonely here. Mari was avoiding her, Wendy was busy trying to make some kind of atonement by helping out Stan, and damn it she was standing here all by herself, unable to confess all her self-doubt to anyone who would listen.<p>

Yes, she had tried the Goths, she had been that desperate. Not even they were willing to hear her out. Was she to be doomed to wander the whole of Prom with no one but her emo—er, depressed self?

With all these happy people around here having a good time, she needed to take a break from all the cheerfulness. Where better to do that than in the bathroom? A little time out, some time to blow off a little steam, then she could go back in there and be the ever fabulous Roxi Thame that everybody adored.

Sigh…it was sometimes so hard to be wonderful.

She did a little touching up in the mirror, making herself cosmetically acceptable, a little adjustment in the breast area and she was back to her regular looks that could kill.

So awesome. Though she didn't feel like it, she needed to present a strong front out there. They needed to think she was all right. Then maybe Wendy and Mari would drift back and she wouldn't feel so alone. Truly it was a shame she hadn't found a date to go out with…

Sigh.

Alright, let's go back out there and make some heads roll!

She was leaving the restroom, looking right and left to see if there was anyone around and found herself a bit disappointed. No one was there to show off to just yet but a small trip down the hallway and she would be back in the party if you know what she meant.

She began to take a step forward but then pulled back as someone passed by, heedless of her presence. It was so sudden and how had she not seen him? Sure he was short and everything but…

The person glanced at her and Roxi found herself being captivated by the sharp look that paralyzed her. Lips curled into a sneering smirk but the malevolence in those eyes…they were so…familiar…

_You just committed what tens of college students and professors commit every year. Try again before you get charged with a misdemeanor and sued._

You know, for a sudden memory to pop up in her head, that…was not the most dramatic one to come out. How about for a more ominous one, long term memory?

_You have balls doing this, bitch. How come every time a guy dresses up like a Batman knockoff, some girl gets it into her head that she can not only do the same thing but do it better?_

Okay, that was better. Alright, proper expression of shock…check. Okay, continue dramatic reveal.

_She should be made to realize the error of her arrogance, wouldn't you agree?_

_You're out of your league._

A night that should have been triumphant, where she should have gotten her desired Spiderman kiss from a certain mysterious hero, when she stood high above the trio of fighters who looked up at her in awe…and then insulted her within an inch of her life. That was when it all went downhill and when she tried to fight back, the tables were turned immediately and she found herself at the mercy of…

…of _him_. The very person who was currently in front of her, walking passed her and sparing her a smug look. The person who had gone into hiding, lurking in every shadow and eluding her whenever she tried to search for him. A lookalike who wasn't a lookalike but the real deal.

Bain.

And then he was passed her, increasing the distance between them as he unhurriedly strolled down the hallway. She could feel it in every cell of her body; he was up to something. Something wicked and villainous. And she was the only person who knew. Mysterion wasn't around and she had no idea how to contact him.

It was going to be all up to her then. But Roxi couldn't face him! She was just a normal yet awesome girl! She was a civilian!

_Le Chat Noir_ wasn't. _Le Chat Noir_ was a hero who had yet to establish herself. This was her chance then to prove herself once and for all that she was hero material. To expose and then spoil this supervillain's plot…the opportunity was almost too good to be true!

She clenched her fists as Bain turned a corner and her resolve strengthened. Turning on her heels, she walked rapidly towards the parking lot, heading for the car she had ridden in where she had just so happened to stash a certain costume on a whim.

* * *

><p>Things were heating up in here, temperature-wise that is. Kenny needed a bit of a break because not even he could be a teenaged heartthrob all the time. He moved through the crowd, slipping around those who stood in his way and occasionally winking at girls who happened to make eye contact with him.<p>

Watching them blush a bit in response was always worth it.

Passing through the front entrance that no longer had a certain bus driver guarding it, the blond recognized the singular opportunity that was suddenly presented to him. With no one keeping a close eye out, this was the perfect chance to fulfill that sacred South Park tradition!

Spiking the punch. Oh yeah.

Oh, wait, he had forgotten to bring any booze with him. But he had been sure that some of the guys had hired some French mercenary to smuggle some in. Where the hell was he? Never mind, if there was a liquor store nearby he could use his fake ID to nab a bottle and then smuggle it in.

Kenny was about to liven up this party. You can thank him later.

Adjusting the bow tie of his light blue tux, the hood of his orange parka slipping out from between his neck and the collar of his dress shirt, Kenny tried to make himself a bit presentable before taking off for the nearest exit as fast as he could. There was no telling on how long this opening would last so he needed to hurry.

Senses honed from late nights out on the town while costumed as a certain dark vigilante brought him up short and he scanned his surroundings for whatever sent his internal alarms up and ringing. He could have sworn he heard a familiar sound of footsteps but that couldn't be. Eh, probably was his—

A flash of someone hurrying through the hallways dressed in a tight leather-esque outfit that resembled a cat put an end to that thought.

Dear God, this could not be happening. Was that idiot really trying to play hero tonight of all nights? And damn it, he was already in the mission of lightening up this borefest! Did that girl really have no sense of timing or anything?

"M'kay, folks if you'll be patient for a few more minutes, we'll be announcing the winner of the prom elections here in a bit."

He could hear that amplified voice of the school counselor make that announcement and Kenny swore. Christ, he needed to be in there to hear the results as well! But he couldn't be in two places at once! That was physically impossible! Oh, what to do, what to do?

Gritting his teeth, he hurried back into the large, decorated room, his eyes searching for the first person that looked even remotely helpful. He needed to find someone who would listen to him for a second. He needed someone who could pose as him for a bit while he handled this new matter. He needed someone who could copy his body language to the point that no one would be the wiser that it was an imposture.

In short, he needed a close friend who let him walk all over them like a welcome mat.

Cartman was out of the question. Stan was too busy. Hey, it was Princess Leia again, searching for Stan frantically. And then…

"Kyle!" he called out as he snagged the surprised Jew's arm.

"Kenny?" Kyle exclaimed.

"Kyle! I need your help for something," Kenny said as quickly as he could. "It's incredibly important and you're the only one that can pull it off!"

"What about Butters?" Kyle asked. "I'm a bit _busy_ here," he added, jerking his head towards Violet who was currently chatting it up with a few of her friends.

"Not smart enough," Kenny answered. "Just…I need to be somewhere else right now but I can't miss the announcement of who won the election."

"This isn't going where I think it's going is it?" Kyle asked, eyes narrowing at him.

"I don't have a lot of time Kyle. _Please_!" Kenny begged the redhead.

Kyle looked away, biting his lip for a moment. "Christ, I know I am going to regret this," he muttered.

* * *

><p>Roxi wasn't the only person who was chasing after a suspicious character in this airport hotel. Having spotted and kept her eye on him, DJ was also following after Bain. With a camera phone in hand, she was determined to not only confront him one last time but hopefully grab some incriminating evidence that would finally get her the revenge that she craved so much.<p>

* * *

><p>High above the stage below, Bain crossed the catwalk that remained out of sight of the crowd of high school seniors, various wires and cables streaming parallel with the suspended pathway. Just ahead was some electronic equipment, set up right here for the little show that was about to take place in a few minutes.<p>

The unveiling of the prom king winner was the key to this whole thing. A single moment of incredible importance that it could make or break this whole thing. He had already made one last call to Sunny, informing her that the time was at hand and to get ready doing her part.

The time was at hand at long last. Everything that he had been working on all came down to the next few minutes.

Opening up a laptop, he brought up the necessary programs that had been made during set up by none other than a fellow prom committee member. All the committee members knew about this but not about the few changes he had slipped in here and there. A little lightshow before the big reveal would entertain that morons down there and get them invested in learning the long-awaited results.

Once drawn in, then the full brunt of his plans would come in. It was just so exciting and he trembled with anticipation.

A few taps of the keys and it was all set up. Now to wait and make the few adjustments that were would be needed to make this absolutely perfect. His nightmarish fantasy was about to meet reality.

It was now all set into motion.

He felt them more than anything. It was the feeling you usually felt when you could tell someone was watching you and only you. What was the phrase for this sensation, the hairs stood on the back of his neck?

Regardless, he knew he wasn't alone and he would be damned if anyone was going to interfere this late in the game. Bain slipped Winslow out of his current hiding place and then jumped into action.

Spinning around, he swung his arm in an arch, slashing at the person who cried out and jumped back. Oh no, they weren't going to get away now. Not now of all times. Then he took in the image of this would be interloper and blinked, his mind trying to process the ridiculousness of it.

Of all the people…he would have thought it would have been McCormick or the so-called Mole. Black outfit that hugged the curves, spots of fake fur pasted onto cloth, a domino mask and a headband with Goddamn cat ears on them…

He knew this person…unfortunately…

"You…" he breathed out, staring her down. "You're that…Kitty Girl, aren't you?"

"The name's _Le Chat Noir_ now, evildoer!" the masked menace declared with as much bravado as she could gather. She pointed a clawed finger at him while trying to take up a heroic pose, hand on the hip, straight posture, and expression of self-righteousness included in the package.

"You have got to be kidding," Bain said, feeling the urge to do what teenagers today called a faceplam. Straightening up and ignoring the fact that she was _taller_ than him, he kept Winslow out in sight as he decided to play this costumed bitch's game. "I see you survived that fall," he commented. "And you tried to come up with an original name. Still a bad choice, it means 'the black cat' in a certain European language that I refuse to name. I believe you are now borderline copyright infringement."

"Hey! It's a totally original name!" Le Chat Noir defended.

"For a French elementary school kid," Bain retorted. "I said it once and I'll say it again, you're out of your league, _bitch_."

"I won't let you do…whatever it is you're up to!" Le Chat Noir declared as she held her hands out, finger curved like she was trying to make them claws.

"How sad, you don't even know what's going on," Bain demurred, shaking his head as if he was speaking to an unruly child. Eyes flashing open with a steely glare, he added darkly, "Nor shall you."

He watched as the girl froze, a second of fear making her hesitate and Bain took the opportunity presented to him. He lunged at her, crossing the short distance between them in a second. With his left hand, he threw a clumsy punch whose sole purpose was to distract this idiot's attention, a diversion that proved successful as the costumed fool took a step back, her eyes trained on the fist.

She didn't even see when he swung his right hand, the one that held Winslow in its grasp, and struck her in the side of her face with the hilt of the blade's pommel. She was caught off guard and Bain used both of his hands to grab her on either side of her head. Pulling down, he rammed a knee right into her face once, then twice before letting her crumple onto the catwalk.

Too simple, really. Looks like she had a low tolerance for pain. Now what to do with her…

Noticing the cables all around, his lips curved into a wicked smirk.

* * *

><p>A slap brought <em>Le Chat Noir<em> back into consciousness and the superheroine blinked her eyes while twisting her head around to try and find where the unconsciousness banishing blow had come from.

"Wakey, wakey, my little skinned cat."

Another slap and whatever fuzziness that once existed in her head was gone as she focused on that bit of physical shock.

Bain was right in front of her, smirking at her malevolently while his hands fiddled with a much too large knife casually. _Le Chat Noir_ jerked her body but soon found out that something was restraining her. Damn it, she was tied up! Though with what she had yet to find out—

That's when Bain place a hand on her and pushed her back…and straight off the catwalk that she only now remembered they were on. Her eyes widened and she opened her mouth to scream but before gravity could take hold, something pulled on her and she was stopped in midair, her restraints tightening against her without warning.

It was now she realized that she was tangled up in the cables and wires that surrounded the catwalk like a little kitten in a ball of yarn. Only a kitten, though, she was doing her best not to move in case that one move sent her plummeting down to the stage below.

"There's always more than one way to skin a cat," Bain joked at her expense. "Now don't be going anywhere. I want you to see just what's about to happen and let me just say that it'll be a doozy."

Swallowing down her fear while trying to keep up a braze front, she declared, "You won't get away with this you fiend."

"Please," Bain rolled his eyes at her. "It's already begun and nothing can stop it now. So why don't you be a good little cunt and shut. Up."

"Why don't you treat ladies with more respect instead?" a gravelly voice retorted.

_Le Chat Noir_ jerked her head up and she felt relief blossom in her chest as there stood Mysterion, here to save the day again.

"I really should have expected you to show up," Bain grumbled as he rubbed his forehead. "When one masked idiot shows up, another is bound to follow. Do you always come in pairs?"

"This ends here Bain," Mysterion stated. "I suspected you were going to pull something tonight. Can't say that I'm not surprised. You wouldn't get involved with prom unless you were planning to sabotage it. I'm not going to let that happen."

"Do you really think that this is my first rodeo?" Bain challenged. "This has not been the first prom that I've had a hand in before. I know what I'm doing and I'm afraid that this time, you will not stop anything. I've been waiting for this night for years and nothing you can do is going to put an end to it."

"We'll see about that," Mysterion replied.

A loud noise from the speakers below blocked out any other words the two foes could have thrown out, the lights attached just under the catwalk blinking on and moving in a programmed manner. The show had started and many of the seniors were turning towards the stage of which this trio of unique individuals were suspended over. Due to the curtains, no one had any view of them but then no one knew they were up there in the first place so none were looking for them.

_SOUTH PARK SENIORS OF 2012, WELCOME TO PROM NIGHT!_ a programmed voice spoke through the speakers. _IT'S THE MOMENT YOU'VE BEEN WAITING FOR! IT'S TIME TO FIND OUT THIS YEAR'S PROM QUEEN AND KING!_

Bain grinned wickedly. "Too late 'Mysterion'. It's started."

And then the psycho threw himself at the hooded hero, _Le Chat Noir_ unable to look away as two titans collided to begin their climatic battle. If only she had some popcorn…

The hero and villain grappled with one another, Bain trying to stab with his knife which Mysterion held back by holding the wrist that rested under the knife wielding hand. Mysterion's other hand had a firm hold of the upper portion of Bain's arm as he struggled against the bad guy who clutched at the vigilante's shoulder with his free hand.

_Le Chat Noir_ felt like she was watching something she wasn't supposed to. Right in front of her, two titans were duking it out and the outcome was none other than the preservation of Prom itself!

And all she could do was dangle here and do nothing to assist the hero she idolized.

The two fighters jostled from side to side, hitting up against the railings on either side of the catwalk, a dance of potential lethality that one wrong move and one of them could fall off the bridge and down onto the stage below, risking possible death.

"That was good, wasn't it students, m'kay?" Mackey spoke from below, ignorant to the battle just above him. "Let's give a hand of applause to the prom committee and congratulate them on their hard work? C'mon, m'kay!"

Mysterion managed to shove Bain away from him and then launched at the villain in a flying tackle, knocking them both onto the catwalk. The knife slipped out of Bain's hand and skittered away, coming to a stop right in front of the electronic equipment that she had seen him working on before.

The begrudging applause died below and the school counselor continued with his announcement. "M'kay, you've all been waiting for a while haven't you? Well, at long last we have the result from your voting. First up, we'll announce who this year's Prom King will be. Now if I can only get this thing opened…" The last sentence was mumbled yet was picked up by the microphone he held in his hands.

Everyone heard him but no one really cared. That went double for those above.

Mysterion and Bain were now wrestling more than fighting, though every so often, one would free a hand and start whaling on the other with a clenched fist. Bain's legs were kicking out all over the place, sometimes hitting Mysterion but most of the time just striking the suspended platform they were on.

While they were fighting it out, _Le Chat Noir_, inspired by how hard her personal hero was fighting, began testing her restraints, trying to loosen them so that she could escape them and then help out. She had no idea just how Bain's plan was going to turn out but she figured the best way to stop it was to take him out. Mysterion seemed to have the right idea there.

"There, got it. Now, the winner and your new Prom King is…"

Bain managed to smash the palm of his hand into Mysterion's chin, snapping the hero's head back a bit and putting a few inches of space between them. With his teeth bared and clenched together, Bain growled as his hand pushed against Mysterion's face as he sought to get the hero off of him. It seemed to be working as Mysterion was unwillingly giving up an inch of space by the second. He pulled one of his legs in, folding in on itself and wormed it between them, trying to use it as a wedge to push Mysterion off him fully.

With a push, Bain managed to shove Mysterion off him but instead of backing away, maybe retrieving his knife, Bain was throwing himself onto the hero and throwing vicious punch after vicious punch at the hooded vigilante's face.

With his lower arm, Mysterion parried one potentially nasty blow then only moving his elbow like a fulcrum, bashed the back of his fisted hand into Bain's mouth. It wasn't a hard blow but it was just enough to provide a physical shock to the sociopath to make his jerk back.

"Can we get a drum roll, m'kay? M'kay, that's better, now for this year's Prom King, it's…"

Mysterion slapped his hands on either side of Bain's head, disorienting him enough that the hero was the one shoving him away this time. As he stood up to tower over his enemy, Bain kicked a foot into his stomach, Mysterion folding his arms over his gut while simultaneously entrapping Bain's foot.

Bain's eyes widened in fear at the expectation that Mysterion would twist his foot and in a sudden bout of desperation, kicked his other foot into Mysterion's groin, a move with purpose but accidentally hitting that one sensitive place.

_Le Chat Noir_ scrunched her face a bit, sympathizing with Mysterion on receiving a critical blow and as a result she began to renew her struggles. She dropped a few inches suddenly and froze completely, suddenly remembering that she was high up here. She had managed to slip out of some tangles of cables but now her position was even more precarious than before!

"Wow, the prom committee really went out this year, didn't they? Can we get another round of applause for them for doing such a good job? Keep that drum roll going." Some uneasy and impatient clapping… "M'kay, that's good and now, for the Prom King that you elected, it is…"

A right hook sent Mysterion sprawling onto the catwalk and Bain glared down at him with a venomous snarl. It looked like he was about to jump on top of the vigilante again but a glance downward seemed to convince him to leave off attacking Mysterion in favor of reaching the computer equipment.

From her dangling position, _Le Chat Noir_ began to renew her struggles, casting helpless looks towards Mysterion who was starting to push himself up, rubbing at his jaw where Bain's last hit struck him.

_Come on Mysterion! You gotta stop him!_

"You know, it's been a real crazy month hasn't it?" Mackey remarked, unwittingly stalling again. "What with all those debates and vicious campaigns. Well, I guess with this we can put it all behind us—"

"GET ON WITH IT!" the crowd of high school seniors, along with various chaperoning faculty members roared at him.

"Okay, okay, I'm gonna, m'kay!" Mackey said defensively. "M'kay, this year's Prom King is…"

Bain hunched over the laptop, his fingers finishing tapping on some keys and ready to hit the enter button. Mysterion was turning himself around and stalking up behind the villain. _Le Chat Noir_ gripped at the cables that restrained her yet prevented her from falling to an almost certain painful meeting with the stage below.

"…Kenny McCormick!"

Bain hit the enter key, and a simple spotlight began shining down on the stage where the Prom King should take his place on the stage. Meanwhile, in the crowd, there were various yells, most notably from Cartman who was busy demanding a recount and Princess Leia who was crying out in an oddly masculine voice that her son was a loser.

Then as a hooded individual wearing a light blue tux walked onto the stage, Bain blinked, his jaw dropping slightly at the sight. McCormick was down there…but wasn't he—?

He was jerked backwards as Mysterion got an arm around his neck and began dragging him away from the electronics.

Twisting his head around, Bain demanded through clenched teeth, "How? How are you in different places…?"

"Trade secrets," Mysterion smirked.

"That's…my…line," Bain spat out.

"Not anymore it's not," Mysterion replied.

"You only…invoke that…when you take authority from…someone else," Bain growled.

Mysterion wrenched his arms and bashed Bain into the catwalk railings and used his hands to hold him up against them. "There's more than one application of the Jack Bauer rule, Bain."

_Le Chat Noir_ felt like she could have swooned. Mysterion was so in his element here, taking on the bad guy and saving the day. This thing was over and…sigh, she hadn't played an integral part in stopping it. Like always. Damn it.

"Now, I know you all are wondering who won the Prom Queen election but unfortunately, the last few candidates failed to follow the rules before all the votes were counted, m'kay, and were thus disqualified. I'm sorry but we're only going to have a single king this year."

"This is bullshit!" could be heard come from Cartman of all people.

A voice cried out from the crowd, "Who would've won if none of them were disqualified?" A few "yeahs" followed that and Mackey could be seen shifting uncomfortably.

"Er…" Mackey hesitated, his uneasy grunt causing the speakers to shriek slightly. However, the shriek began to increase in volume unexpectedly for a second, causing a few complaints to be thrown from the audience of high school seniors.

Just as soon as the shriek from the speakers died down, an unexpected and unrecognized voice boomed from them.

"_ME!_"

_Le Chat Noir_ looked down at the stage in surprise, caught off guard by the magnified declaration. Mysterion had copied her, also looking down at the stage, caught off guard. The only person in the rafters who wasn't, though, happened to be Bain who took this new opening to snake an arm under and around Mysterion, his hand clamping down on the back of the hero's head and pulling it down.

Mysterion's face met with the top bar of the catwalk railing and then again as Bain pulled his head back and then pushed it into the bar for a second time. Breaking from Mysterion's hold on him, he landed another punch on him and then scrambled back to the laptop where he sharply tapped a few more keys.

"I told you that this has already begun," Bain boasted. A sharp tap on the enter key caused all the red-colored lights to flash on and direct their beams of light all on a trapdoor in the stage which was at that time opening.

Rising out of it was a gowned figure of a beautiful woman, one that _Le Chat Noir_ had never seen before. The dress she was wearing was stained in some unknown red substance and it was hard to tell what its original color had been due to all the red lights shining down on her but what seemed to keep most people rooted to the floor was the crazed expression on her face.

Her eyes were alight with some sinister flame and her lips were pulled back in an almost rictus grin that expose so many pearly white teeth. Then there was the gun that she held casually in one hand, a possible insurance that no one would leave this moment willingly until it was all over.

"Sorry for my late entrance but I couldn't bear to not let you guys have your Queen," Sierra Cynis spoke into a spare microphone, the night now entirely hers.


	27. It All Goes Up in Flames

Author's Note: Second to last chapter folks and let me promise you, this is going to be one heated climax. Just had a writing bug over the last few days and finally got this one done. Long, of course, not as long as I intended it but I had a bunch of stuff that needed to be addressed. That which wasn't will be, hopefully, in the next chapter, which hopefully will be posted by the end of the month. Time to get this bitch over and done with! The poll's still up so hurry up and vote because it's going down when I announce the results next chapter.

Just so freaking much here. I ended up cutting some things out though they will show up next chapter. If this thing got any longer, I swear…

On one last note, I've just learned that some people are calling for a black out on Fanfiction in protest of the recent purge of stories. If that's something you're interested in, the date's June 23 and in order to participate…all you have to do is not go onto Fanfiction. I'm ambivalent towards the issue but if you feel strongly about it, then here's your chance to take part in a boycott. An author called **PenguinSavoir** has more details and you'll find them in the story _Insomniac Skeletons_.

Anyway, enjoy.

Disclaimer: I do not own South Park.

Warning: language, violence, death

It All Goes Up in Flames

"_All available cars, we've just received a report of a hostage situation at the Airport Hilton. Could someone go out there and check it out?"_

"10-4 Dispatch, the South Park PD is on the case!" Barbrady responded back, a bit too eagerly for Marcus' tastes but still, even he felt a bit excited. It wasn't every day that you got to deal with violent crime in a small town and outside of that one political terrorist attacking all the prom queen candidates, this was going to be his first time in a potentially dangerous situation.

And as his superior always said, you never forgot your first time. Or it was something to that effect.

"_Officer Barbrady, please stand down for more qualified personnel to investigate." _Dispatch ordered.

"Already on my way, I'll meet you at the scene of the crime!" Barbrady replied, ignoring the order.

"_Goddamn it Barbrady you will STAND—_click!"

"Well that was getting annoying," Barbrady said. "Let's turn up the radio, find some rock station and get our blood pumping! We're about have your first hostage negotiation Michelangelo!"

"It's Marcus," Marcus corrected but it was said with none of his ire. Even he felt the excitement as Barbrady turned on his lights and put the pedal to the metal.

* * *

><p>Kyle was never sure what it was that convinced him to pretend to be other people. Whether it was role-playing as an Angelina Jolie doll as it was melted by a concentrated beam of light coming from a magnifying glass or disguising himself as Brittany Spears to lead the paparazzi astray, he was always pretending to be someone he was not.<p>

And now Kenny was included into that illustrious group. He did not know how Kenny had convinced him or what it was about him when he asked that lowered his defenses but he had agreed to impersonate his blond, perverted friend because hey, that's what friends did for friends in South Park.

He hadn't expected Kenny to actually win the prom king crown. So instead of just sticking around in the crowd, he had to get up onto the stage and pretend to be Kenny. This was Kenny's moment, not his! What was Kenny doing that was so important that he had to skip out?

But then things had to go from uncomfortable to terrifying with some crazy bitch came out from underneath the stage, wielding a _gun_ and demanding that Mr. Mackey hand over the prom queen crown because she was now in charge.

No one here had the guts to invoke the Jack Bauer rule and Kyle couldn't say he blamed them.

"Come on South Park High, can't a former queen get a round of applause?" the crazy girl demanded, aiming her gun directly at the crowd. "I came all this way to make sure you guys had a Queen this year because a Prom without a Queen shouldn't even exist! Where's the love?"

A few people started clapping while the rest continued to stare at her in fear. Oh sure there were some who were sneaking around, attempting some kind of daring plan to try and neutralize the situation, Stan most likely being the one in charge of that, but Kyle couldn't see any sign that such a plan was being carried out.

Because now would be a very good time to have a plan like that intervene.

* * *

><p>"Who the hell is that?" Mysterion asked aloud.<p>

"The person who has been attacking all the prom queen candidates," Bain answered, a smirk on his lips. "The whore decides to show her face at last."

"How do you know she's the attacker?" Mysterion demanded, glaring at the maniac.

"She came to my house in her ridiculous getup and was holding a crowbar," Bain answered, eyes trained down on what was going on below. "She fit the descriptions to a T, too, if you were wondering."

"Who is she?" Mysterion growled, tightening his clenched fists.

"My sister," Bain said simply.

Mysterion stared at Bain, trying to comprehend what he had just been told. "Your…sister?" his voice cracked a bit.

"Insanity runs in the family though you didn't hear that from me," Bain confided. "She was prom queen once, you know. Of course, her big night under the spotlight took a wrong turn and for the worst too. Had to go to an asylum for a bit. She came home from college recently and her timing was close to when the prom elections started, if you were wondering. I always suspected she had a psychosis towards prom."

"So she's as psychotic as you, great," Mysterion grumbled.

Suddenly, a sharp stab of pain seared through his knee and Mysterion cried out, falling onto his ass and back onto the catwalk. Bain pulled out a large knife that he had stabbed into the vigilante's knee, the same knife, Mysterion recognized, as the one he always carried around. A punch to his cheek forced Mysterion's head against the catwalk and Bain was on top of him trying to pin him down.

"You're not interfering with anything tonight," he growled. "We're just going to let Sierra have her fun down there before the fireworks really begin. Before I forget, don't insult psychotics. Calling that whore down there psychotic is not only the wrong terminology but she doesn't even fit the prerequisites according to the DSM-IV."

"What should I call her then?" Mysterion growled out, trying to block out the massive amount of pain in his leg.

"Borderline or manic-depression would be better fits," Bain answered. The sociopath's eyes flickered upwards for a second then did a double take. "What the…?" he grunted.

Darting his own baby blues to where Bain was looking, hoping that maybe some kind of dues ex machina had decided to grace him, Mysterion spotted the figure of DJ crouched just outside of the catwalk's entrance, a camera phone in hand aimed directly at the two of them. Was she filming them?

Whatever.

He jabbed his elbow back and Bain grunted in reply, jostled by the blow. With his other arm, Mysterion forced himself up, bowing his head down for a second before throwing it back and butting against Bain's face.

Something jammed in the back of his hooded head and for a second, Mysterion saw stars dance across his vision.

"You will not spoil this!" Bain hissed in his ear, slamming his head back down onto the catwalk.

"You want to risk her exposing you?" Mysterion spat out, referring to DJ. "She's probably recorded everything, including your confession." As much as it left a bad taste in his mouth, he needed to distract Bain and the best way to do that, unfortunately, was to involve someone else.

Just take the bait, please!

"Mysterion, what are you doing!" Le Chat Noir exclaimed, horrified at him. "He'll murder her!"

Shut up!

Yet he could feel Bain shift above him. It was an automatic spasm of movement; Bain had instinctively tried to go after DJ but stopped himself as he reminded himself that he had to keep Mysterion pinned down. Or at least that's what Mysterion reasoned out as Bain's thoughts. While he didn't care that he was being filmed, he wasn't ecstatic about it either.

Mysterion was not as warm to cameras as his alter ego Kenny McCormick was.

"What's it going to be Bain?" Mysterion challenged. "Stop her or continue to incriminate yourself?"

"Since when have you grown a brain?" Bain growled.

"What are you doing?" Le Chat Noir asked, her voice tight with fear. Mysterion did not like that tone; she was seeing things that he was unable to so something bad must be up.

"Putting an end to our little rivalry here," Bain answered surprisingly. "Sorry Mysterion but I'm afraid I'm going to have to _cut_ our association off once and for all."

Though he couldn't see it, Bain had lifted his knife up above his head, the blade angled downward and ready to plunge into his body as a gunshot rang out from below.

* * *

><p>When faced with a crazy bitch with a gun trying to steal prom royalty, there was only one thing that Cartman knew he could do in this situation.<p>

"Fuck this shit, it's every man for himself! Run for your lives!"

He abandoned Brianna and shoved his way through the crowd of seniors, not caring that he was making a spectacle of himself. He had to get out of here so that he could…uh…he could…call…the…um…call the police! Yeah! He needed to leave so that he could get help! See, he could think of others when he wanted to!

He had just reached the doors when a gunshot rang out and a bullet ricocheted off the door handle and into his upper arm. It was a one-in-a-million chance occurrence but it looked like this was the one-millionth time it happened.

Lucky him.

"God fucking damn it! I've been shot!" he wailed.

"No one said you could leave," the crazy bitch on stage declared. "Does anybody else want one?" she demanded of the crowd, waving the barrel of the weapon at the other uninjured assholes who hadn't bothered to come to his aid!

He was injured here! He needed some medical attention! Life-saving surgery! Something! Anything? Oh come on, you assholes would do it for Kyle! No one? Bastards, all of you!

"Where's my crown Mackey?" the crazy bitch snapped towards the school counselor that seemed to follow them no matter how many schools they changed. "Do you want the next bullet, hmm?"

"We'll give you what you want, just don't shoot anybody!" Mackey exclaimed, holding his hands up in surrender. "Principal Victoria? Garrison? Random nameless faculty member? Get the prom queen crown would you? Quickly!"

"Ay! Somebody's already been shot!" Cartman roared over the increasing panic.

"Sorry, don't shoot anybody important," Mackey amended.

"AY!"

"Shut the fuck up tubby, you want to get us killed?" Jake the fag hissed at him, clamping a hand over his mouth.

Tearing the faggy hand off him (it was too soft, like moisturizer was applied to it frequently), Cartman glared up at Jake. "Where the hell were you, you faggy asshole? You're supposed to be my bodyguard!"

"I gave you my resignation after the election asshole!" Jake protested. "And I'm not a fag!"

"You better hope you die here tonight because once we get out of here, I am so going to sue you for negligence of your duties!" Cartman threatened.

Jake was silent for a second before abruptly pulling away and shouting towards the crazy bitch, "Your majesty? Do you still do executions?"

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Cartman cried out.

"Dismissing your case," Jake said calmly then yelling louder, "Can you hear me your majesty?"

"Fuck you homo! If she shoots at me, I'm going to use you as my human shield!" Cartman declared. "I don't even care if I'll be splattered with your green, radioactive, homo blood, I will take you down with me!"

* * *

><p>One of the extremely few people who weren't panicking was Damien but then again, mortal weapons had never really fazed him before. He already knew what Hell was, where he would go, blah, blah, blah, and he'd be back on the surface after his father dealt with the mortal fool who had "killed" him.<p>

He was only halfway through the deal his father had struck with Charlie and if anything happened to the devil's son, the devil would investigate until the perpetrator was found. So, in many ways, he was the safest person here.

But someone who wasn't safe happened to be Kyle and unlike most of the people here, he was not fooled into thinking it was Kenny up on that stage. Why McCormick would convince Kyle to go through this and why Kyle would agree to do it in the first place was beyond Damien's current reasoning but regardless of what the truth was, it did not change the fact that it was Kyle up there, within five feet of that insane mortal female.

A quick whiff of her revealed the sins of pride, lust, and wrath all wrapped around her rotten soul. Funny, especially since her exterior was so much more attractive; guess beauty really was _skin-deep_.

"_Finally_," the mortal female's voice hissed through the speakers as the school faculty managed to dig up some kind of crown for her lunacy. Ooh, now there was some greed mixed up in her scent. A lot of it in fact. "Thank you South Park High for electing me as your Queen! This is the happiest moment of my life!"

Hold on a minute. _Elected?_ But no one in this class had…oh, she was delusional. That's nice. Who was this mortal? It was a curious puzzle to him but he was not driven to solve it just this moment. Instead, he decided to ignore the problem she presented and carry on with what he had been trying to do before.

Pretend to be a normal teenage mortal trying to enjoy this "prom" business. It was actually hard to do, especially when everyone was keeping their eyes trained on a certain female mortal, treating her like she was a loose cannon about to blow.

Seeing as how their eyes weren't wide open and their bodies weren't in the indecisive position of choosing flight over fight, Damien assumed that this hadn't been the first time this group of mortals had been held up at gunpoint before.

A common occurrence? Maybe but it was not important right now.

What was important right now was the new development in which this prom usurper was turning her attention towards the disguised Kyle and that was something that he could not ignore. He didn't like how the delusional mortal female was looking at Kyle. Not one bit. Perhaps it would be best to move in closer, you know, so that if she tried anything funny with the Jewish redhead then he could be in a position to quickly intervene.

Remember, as he explained before, he was not afraid of mortal weapons.

As he moved through the throng of students, he passed by that accused mortal Violet and he overheard her whimpering and asking out loud "where was Kyle?"

She had no idea, did she? Kyle had been away from her side for how long and she didn't know where he was? Had Kyle not told her that he was filling in for Kenny? If he hadn't, then why hadn't he told her? And now that he thought about it, where was Kenny?

Nevertheless, he had to stop in his tracks and converse with Violet if only for a second.

"Has the reflection of light off your teeth blinded you from recognizing that it's Kyle up there?" Damien spoke to her, not looking at her but knowing that she had recognized his voice enough to take her eyes off the drama on the stage and aim them at him.

"What are you talking about?" Violet asked. "Kyle's not up there; that's Kenny!"

"That female is very attractive," Damien commented. "If that was Kenny up there, then why hasn't he 'put the moves on her' as you mortals say? Do you really think a gun could kill that fool's libido?"

"But she has a gun!" Violet pointed out the obvious. "I think even Kenny would be afraid of a gun! Ooh, I wish Kyle was here!"

"If you do not believe me, then fine. Allow me to show you the error of your thinking," Damien replied.

"Come to me my king," the unidentified, armed female ordered to Kyle. "Let us fulfill the rest of the tradition. The next dance is ours as well as a kiss…"

What was that about a kiss? It was bad enough that Kyle had already done that with someone else! Damien would be blessed—because he was already damned, being the Antichrist and all—if one more pair of lips touched Kyle's.

His eyes glowed red and in the next second, he was standing between the disguised Kyle and the usurper.

* * *

><p>Le<em> Chat Noir<em> watched with large eyes at the mortal danger her idol was currently in. He was stuck on his stomach, facing away from the knife that Bain was about to stab into his suddenly extremely soft physique.

He was helpless and she was unable to aid him due to her current entanglement. Well, there was that one girl down at the other end of the catwalk who was filming the whole thing but it didn't look like she was going to do anything to help out.

How was Mysterion going to get out of this one?

If only she had been a better superhero, then she wouldn't have been captured and would have stopped this supervillain's and not have put the man in whom she desired a Spiderman kiss from in this perilous situation.

But here she was, ensnared and unable to help without risking dropping untold tens of feet and maybe breaking a leg. Why was she always so helpless? Why couldn't she just do anything right for once?

Shutting her eyes in frustration, she cried out, "He's gonna stab you!"

"Shut. Up!" Bain growled as the plunged the knife down at Mysterion.

At the last second, Mysterion tilted as much of his body as he could in the small amount of room he had, tearing one of his arms out from underneath Bain and jerking it behind him. The upper part of his lower arm crashed into Bain's descending arm, jarring it and throwing the villain's aim off so that his knife made contact with the metal of the catwalk instead of the softer flash of Mysterion.

Mysterion then grabbed Bain's lowered arm and pulled it as hard as he could, trying and succeeding in throwing Bain's balance off. With Bain's position weakened, Mysterion managed to push up and roll them over so that Bain's back was against the catwalk instead of Mysterion's stomach.

_Le Chat Noir_ breathed a sigh of relief at this new reversal.

A gun shot from below took that relief out of her.

Jerking her head downward, she saw that there was a new figure on the stage, one that was clutching his shoulder from the bullet that Bain's sister had just fired at him. It was getting shitty down there, wasn't it?

"Don't just…hang there!" Mysterion grunted at her, exertion telling in his voice. "Do something…about _that_…down there!"

"B-but I'm wrapped up in all this—!" she complained.

"You want to be a hero then act like one!" Mysterion interrupted, lifting his head up and throwing it back into Bain's. "Never…give…up!"

_Le Chat Noir_ swallowed, effectively chastised. Mysterion was right. It was time to stop pretending to be a hero…and actually be one. A novel concept for her but right now she didn't have time to think about it. Now was the time for doing.

She began to squirm in her bindings, slipping an arm between two cables here, a leg out of a looping there. She dropped about four inches and came to a stop after enough struggling. Her heart was pounding in her chest, her anxiety freezing her body up in a primal instinct to preserve itself.

This was going to be harder than it looked.

* * *

><p>The tires squealed as Barbrady stepped on the brakes. Marcus had his hands on the dashboard in front of him, planted right about the glove compartment, bracing himself as they rapidly lost momentum.<p>

Brabrady was in complete control as he pressed harder on the brakes, turning the steering wheel slightly as the car entered a short slide. They came to a quick stop without flipping and as Marcus took in a deep breath of air, Barbrady was already pulling out his gun and tearing out of the car.

"C'mon Marcus! We gotta move!" Barbrady exclaimed.

Marcus stared at his superior in wonder. "That's the first time you got my name right," he said.

"What are you doing? We need to get in there Mick Mack Paddy-wack!" Barbrady yelled.

…so much for that…

Marcus sighed as he opened the door, pulling his own gun out as he exited the car.

* * *

><p>From high above on the Airport Hilton's roof, Josh chuckled as he watched the activity from below.<p>

"Glad you could join us Officer Barbrady and Officer Marcus," he commented, recognizing Barbrady's voice even from high up here. It was only logical that it was Officer Marcus who was the second figure getting out of the car; who else would willingly ride with that man?

"It's a shame though," Josh continued to talk with himself. "You're going to miss a work of art in action. Still, it's your call."

* * *

><p>Damien could hear the gasp of worry from Kyle, even if it was muffled by Kenny McCormick's accursed parka. Made the sharp stab of pain in his shoulder totally worth it. A shame that he had to ruin this tux, not that it was his mind you. You'd be surprised at the quality of suits you could find in Hell; what, it's not like it was grave robbing! No tortured soul was going to miss their unblemished suit when surrounded by brimstone and fire!<p>

"You know, people usually fall down when they get shot," the crazed female said, looking affronted. Hmph, what did she have to be peeved about? She wasn't the one shot here!

"I'm not a usual person, mortal," he challenged back. When her eyes gleamed at his retort, something about that was so familiar, like he had seen it before. "And neither are you, are you?"

"Glad to know someone sees that," the girl smirked at him, folding her arms in front of herself casually. Her microphone was still in one hand but due now to the increased proximity, her words weren't being carried out to the speakers. Those further away were unable to hear and were thus more paranoid about what was going on between the two of them. "You aren't too ordinary either, stranger. I am digging those eyes."

"I am not interested in any affections you might pass my way," Damien stated, observing how the female's eyes sharpened in anger. Now she was starting to look physically familiar… "The only person that I am interested in happens to be behind me, mortal, and I will not allow you to throw yourself upon him like a common whore."

The gun whipped back up into the air, the gun barrel aimed directly at him. "I dare you to repeat that," the female hissed, heterochromatic eyes alight with rage. "No one is not attracted to me. No one!"

Wait a second…her eyes!

"You wouldn't happen to have any relation to the Cynis mortal, do you?" he asked as he squeezed his wounded shoulder with his hand, hoping to take his mind off the throbbing.

"What's it to you? You know that braindead cocksucker?" the girl retorted.

Damien took that as a "yes." The arrogance, the insanity, yeah, definitely signs that she had some relation to Charlie's boy toy.

"Nothing," he said, waving the matter aside. "Why don't you find someone else to fawn over, mortal? Leave this one alone."

"He's the King and I'm the Queen," she replied. "Step aside or the next one's going into your head."

"Just let the crazy bitch do what she wants so she'll go away!" a voice that sounded like Cartman's cried out, a few other voices agreeing.

The crazy Cynis mortal's eye twitched but she made no sign of replying to that statement.

"I refuse," Damien said as he stood up straight, wincing at the pain in shoulder. "Beware, mortal, for should you kill me, there will be consequences beyond your comprehension."

"That's what they all say," the Cynis mortal sneered as tensed her trigger finger.

* * *

><p>Bain grunted as he was pinned down on the catwalk, Mysterion pressing his head into the metal surface while practically sitting on his back. This was not a good turn of events.<p>

"Get…off of me!" he growled out, trying to turn his head. The force of Mysterion holding his head down ended with his chin resting on the suspended incline, an awkward position for his neck to be sure.

"It ends here Bain," Mysterion stated, breathing heavily.

No it couldn't! He still…needed! He needed to get back to the laptop and activate the remaining surprises! Who would have thought putting a timer on them like Sunny had suggested would have been a good idea? Well, they could still be activated manually but that was time consuming and he'd have to contact Sunny in the first place.

Bain didn't think that Mysterion would allow him his one phone call to do that.

He could still struggle but right now Mysterion was in a stable position. It would be fruitless and things below could unravel quicker than anticipated. Sierra would only have so much control down there and then someone would get the smart idea to try and take her out.

He was going to have to think his way out of this conundrum then.

"Fine!" he force out through clenched teeth. "I give! Restrain me or whatever it is you hero-types do."

"You must think I'm some kind of idiot," Mysterion retorted.

"I do but even you can't stay up here forever," Bain replied. "You still have to stop Sierra, don't you? Cat-girl over there isn't going anywhere and by the time she does, someone just might be meeting their maker. Can you take that chance?"

Mysterion said nothing to that but Bain figured that his words had reached him. The pressure of Mysterion's hand on the back of his head was lifting slightly. Not enough for the sociopath to wiggle out of mind you but a sign that he was getting to his opponent.

"Damn it," Mysterion swore as one of his hands disappeared and Bain head rustling of cloth. Removing the hand on the back of his head, Mysterion began grabbing at his hands and started tying them up with his cape. Bain allowed him to do this, his eyes just now catching sight of Winslow.

As Mysterion was lifting his weight off him, grabbing Bain under his armpits with the intention to drag him towards the catwalk railing, Bain lifted a leg up and rapped his knee against Mysterion's injured one.

The hero cried out and fell back on his ass while clutching at his sensitive wound, Bain seizing his chance to roll onto his back and push himself along the catwalk with his feet. When Winslow touched his hair, he sat up and continued to push with his feet until his hands met the blade. By now, Mysterion was hoisting himself back up, using the catwalk railing to steady him, his cape and hood missing and revealing blond hair for all to see.

The cape was made out of shoddy material and was easy for Winslow to cut through. In almost no time, Bain had freed his hands and was now holding Winslow out to ward away any future attacks. He continued to back up towards the computer and reached out with a free hand to the keyboard.

This was going to be tricky and he couldn't afford to take his eyes off the vigilante for a second. How to do this?

"Myst-Mysterion!" Le Chat Noir whimpered, practically falling out of the cables and noticeably lower than the catwalk.

Thank you nth number distraction.

"Mysterion? You have blond hair?" the costumed idiot spoke aloud, just now getting a good look at her inspiration.

"Time to _cut_ you loose," Bain growled as he brought Winslow's sharpened blade against a cable, having to saw through it to get any noticeable results.

"No!" Mysterion cried out, unable to leap at him due to his knee.

"Mysterion!" Le Chat Noir cried, gravity starting to take hold of her as she began to slip out of the last of the cables that wrapped around her.

"Roxi!" Mysterion yelled, reaching a hand out to try and snatch Le Chat Noir's extended one.

Bain paused for a second, recognizing the name but then shoving it aside as he dropped down to the laptop and began to rapidly type on it.

From the corner of his eye, he saw Mysterion just miss Le Chat Noir as the fool began to plummet.

* * *

><p><em>Le Chat Noir's<em> heart was pounding as she began to fall. Her fingertips had been _this_ close to Mysterion's but just when there had been a chance for her to grab him, it had been swiped from her.

Luckily for her, she grabbed onto the cable that Bain had cut and that began to slow her descent somewhat. Hopefully it would support her weight and—whoa!

Her fall began to change in direction; instead of going straight down, she was now starting to move forward as the tautness in the cable increased. The speed of the stage rushing up towards her decreased until she was in a swinging motion, moving straight ahead instead of down.

Air rushed around her as she continued into her unexpected swing, her legs spread out in front of her as headed straight for Bain's sister. The armed, college-aged girl seemed to sense motion and was turning towards her, her eyes widening in shock as _Le Chat Noir_ came into contact with her.

And now the two of them were above the amazed crowd, Bain's sister's gun clattering on the stage floor where she had dropped it when the two females had collided. Bain's sister grabbed at _Le Chat Noir's_ skintight outfit, trying to hold on as they rose higher into the air, slowing as they reached the apex of their swing. For a second, the two made eye contact and _Le Chat Noir_ got a good look at the girl's right green eye that was just as acidic as her brother's left.

Not wanting to be any closer to this insane person, _Le Chat Noir_ used her feet to push Bain's sister off of her literally as her swinging motion reached as far as it would. So as _Le Chat Noir_ began to swing backwards, Bain's sister continued to fly over the crowd until she began fall and land right on top of one of the concession tables.

The table buckled and broke under the girl, throwing food up into the air and spilling the still miraculously, non-alcoholic punch onto Bain's sister.

_Le Chat Noir_, meanwhile, released her grip on the swinging cable and allowed herself to drop onto the stage, momentum forcing her to slide against the polished wood before she finally came to a stop.

Christ! What a rush!

Looking up, panting for air and trying to calm down from the adrenaline high she was experiencing, the amateur superheroine saw that she was now the center of attention as a majority of her classmates was staring at her in shock. Nearby, that Damien kid and Kenny were also staring at her, wondering where the hell she had come from.

Unable to stand the silence, _Le Chat Noir_ cracked out a, "Hi?"

"Jesus Christ! She just saved our asses!" someone cried out.

"She's a freakin' superhero!" another declared.

"Do we have another self-styled vigilante who seeks to protect us from the dark elements of our town while we condemn her for her unlawful actions?" someone wondered.

"The Coon could have done the same thing!" an annoying voice shouted.

"Le Chat Noir?" Wendy Testaburger exclaimed, pushing her way to the front of the crowd, giving her an incredulous look.

"Hey…eh, Wendy," _Le Chat Noir_ winced, having a bad feeling about this. Did Wendy still think she was a lesbian rapist?

Wendy continued to stare at her, her face reflecting so many emotions that slowly began to calm down until she wore nothing but a mask of blandness. Then she raised her hands up and _Le Chat Noir_ winced as Wendy…

…began a slow clap.

And by the rules of the slow clap, when someone starts one, everyone has to join in gradually until the whole room was nothing but applause. _Le Chat Noir_ stared out at everyone in awe and shock, not expecting to ever be on the receiving end of such a thing.

* * *

><p>"That…was unexpected," Bain said, eyes off the laptop and captivated at what had happened.<p>

"You and me both," Mysterion agreed, also staring at the sight of a hundred or so individuals applauding the heroic intervention of some costumed lunatic.

The next thing either of them knew, the front entrance was slamming open as Barbrady and Marcus made a dramatic entrance. Barbrady tried to do a roll but only made it halfway and ended up stuck on his back like a flipped-over turtle. Marcus tripped over his fellow officer but to his credit didn't drop his gun in his stumble.

"Everybody freeze! Where's the political terrorist?" Barbrady demanded as he pushed himself up onto his ass, waving his gun up in the air. It didn't take long for students to begin pointing in Sierra's general vicinity.

Blinking, Bain recalled what he was supposed to be doing and quickly finished up activating one last program, striking the enter key one last time. The curtains at the back of the stage started to flap as a powerful fan began to blow a powerful wind.

Above it, tucked away against the ceiling, boxes of liquidated feces spilt their contents out which were picked up by the breeze caused by the fan.

Tucking himself into a ball, Bain covered himself with Mysterion's cape and hood and prepared to endure the upcoming onslaught. Pulling out his phone, he quickly dialed a number, some last minute unfinished business needing to be taken care of.

Above, the fire sprinklers activated and began spewing gallon upon gallon of fake blood and soon chaos reigned.

* * *

><p>DJ quickly walked down the hallway, hoping to make a quick exit. She had all the proof she needed to take Bain now; a video of him admitting and then ruining prom was something that could not be refuted.<p>

She finally had that bastard and this time, she would have her revenge!

The footage was saved on her phone; all she needed to do was put it onto something else, like a computer and ensure she have a backup copy. Hell, if Bain didn't take this seriously, she'd upload it to YouTube and watch him squirm. Putting her phone into her pocket for safe keeping, she quickened her pace, hoping to get out of here as soon as possible. No sense sticking around and losing the recording before she could get it copied.

Maybe she was a bit too into her fantasies of revenge because she suddenly ran into something and fell over. She heard an "oof!" and the next thing DJ knew, she was sprawled on top of some girl she hadn't seen a second ago.

Growling, she pushed herself up and snapped at whoever it was, she didn't care who they were in the first place, "Watch where you're going! Sheesh!"

There was a softly spoken "Sorry!" but she ignored it, intent on getting out of here. Feeling where she had put her phone, she slowed her pace until she came to a dead stop, not locating where the cellular device was.

"What the hell!" she swore, her hands quickly searching her person, becoming more and more frantic when she just…couldn't…find…it! Where was it? It couldn't have gone anywhere! It's not like it grew legs and walked away! What was going…on…?

Her eyes widened and she spun around, spying a blob of pink disappearing around the far corner. Her thoughts quickly caught up with her, reminding DJ that Bain had a pink-haired leech with him, someone that was so bland in personality that she practically disappeared into air.

By the time she reached where she had last seen that menace, she would be long gone…

"God fucking damn it!" she yelled as she took off after Sun…she knew her name involved the sun! Power of the sun? Why was she thinking about Sunny Delight all of a sudden? Whatever! She needed to get that phone back!

She couldn't let Bain get the best of her! She couldn't let him get away from trapping her in an ice cube and leaving her all alone…

* * *

><p>"You ever see anything like that?" Sergeant Yates asked his partner, motioning with his head towards the Airport Hilton.<p>

"Not since I was sixteen," Murphy answered, hands in his pockets. "Was pretty drunk, though."

"It's like a work of art," Yates said. "I've never seen toilet paper flow like that or twist in that way or just blow in the wind like those streams over there. It's vandalism to be sure but it's…it's…"

"It's what, sir?" Murphy asked.

"So…beautiful," Yates finished.

"A shame someone's going to have to take it all down," Murphy agreed, taking one hand out of his pocket to pat Yates on the back.

"Who could do such a thing?" Yates wondered. "Who around here has the talent to TP like this and on such a scale?"

Behind the two officers, Josh Myers strolled by, in no hurry as he melted into the crowd of gawkers.

"Alright, need to focus here guys," Yates said, snapping out of his stupor. "We got a political terrorist in there and a bunch of snot-nosed high school seniors to save. Lock and load and let's—"

"It's all over folks! There's nothing to see here, everything's under control!" Barbrady's much dreaded voice called out as he exited the airport hotel, a handcuffed girl beside him and being held by the young officer that was currently serving under him.

"Damn it, forgot about him," Yates muttered.

From behind Barbrady, a swarm of shit-stained, blood-drenched, and screaming high school seniors boiled out, every one of them trying to hurry out as fast as they could.

"By God," Yates spoke, eyes wide open as he took in the nightmarish scene. "There has to be a blood bath in there. Everyone! Get in there and find out what the hell is going on! Barbrady! What the hell happened in there!"

"Hey County cops!" Barbrady greeted smugly, oblivious to the armed officers of the law passing around him. "Look what I got here! I caught the political terrorist that was running around, thanks in part to some costumed vigilante. You should have been there!"

"Costumed vigil…? You mean Mysterion was here?" Yates demanded. "I knew we shouldn't have cut out funds for a Mysterion signal that we could have put on top of the station!"

"We didn't have that in the budget," Murphy pointed out.

"I know but it would have been so cool!" Yates mourned. "Looks like he saved the day again."

"Actually, it was someone dressed kinda like Michelle Pfeiffer," Barbrady shrugged.

"What's that? A potential plagiarist? Murphy! Start searching for clues!" Yates ordered. "I'm going to take the suspect in for quest—what the hell, it's a girl!"

"Yeah, I was surprised too," Barbrady said. "But she did try and steal the prom queen crown for herself. I got, like, two hundred witnesses who say that."

"Two hundred, you don't say," Yates said dismissively, feeling a bit awkward about having to handle a _female_ perp. Weren't women suppose to be the fairer sex when they weren't on their periods or something? He had problems seeing how a beautiful young lady like this could possibly be responsible for what she was being accused of.

"Marcus!" the girl cried out, twisting around and looking pleadingly at Barbrady's underling. "Marcus! You have to get me out of this!"

"Officer, do you know this young woman?" Yates asked, eyeing the younger cop.

"She's my girlfriend," the officer known as Marcus answered, his head lowered slightly, fists clenched tightly.

"Wow, you got lucky," Yates whistled.

"Marcus, can you at least get these handcuffs taken off? They're chafing my wrists!" Marcus' girlfriend complained.

"Don't listen to her! She's fucking crazy! She fucking shot me in the shoulder!" a fat high schooler cried out. "See! Look right there—ow! It fucking hurts!"

Yates frowned at that. "Is that true?" he asked the young woman.

"Marcus!" she continued to whine, ignoring the question. "Do something!"

Yates didn't like to be ignored. He wasn't Barbrady or something of that kind of loser-dom! He was a freakin' sergeant for Christ's sake!

"I can't!" Marcus cried out, looking away. "You're under arrest!"

"Enough with the soap opera!" Yates interrupted. "Has she been Mirandized yet? Never mind, I'll do it myself. Go make yourselves useful or something."

"Marcus! Be a fucking man and get me out of this!" the girl yelled after the younger cop as Yates had to drag her away to his car. "Marcus!"

* * *

><p>"You gonna be okay?" Kyle asked, his voice no longer muffled by Kenny's parka hood.<p>

"It'll take more than a mortal weapon to seriously harm me," Damien answered. A second later, he exclaimed in pain as the EMT rubbed disinfectant into his bullet wound.

Kyle raised an eyebrow at the Antichrist but didn't hide away the small smile that was on his lips. "Sure," he drawled out knowingly.

"I'll heal fast; there won't even be a mark by morning," Damien claimed, subtly glaring at the ambulance personnel. "How are you doing, though? You weren't hurt any, right?"

"Just covered in shit and this fake blood shit," Kyle sniffed, looking at the stained tux distastefully. "This was rented too. The guys at the tux rental are going to charge us out the ass for this."

"Perhaps I'll have a word with them," Damien offered. "I'm sure they will be understanding once they learn of the _extenuating_ circumstances."

"Should I bother protesting?" Kyle asked.

"Only if you want," Damien refrained from shrugging. Heh, trying to be all stoic and strong and shit. Red eyes looked over the redhead's shoulder and then said red eyes' mouth asked, "Do you need to go back to your _date_ Kyle?"

"Violet?" Kyle looked over his shoulder and spotted the girl that he had agreed to accompany this night. Oh. Right. The whole crazy girl holding everybody up at gun point while he pretended to be Kenny made him forget about that bit.

"You can go to her if you want," Damien said, closing his eyes and trying to look like he was some kind of martyr. Probably thought he was one.

Kyle bit his bottom lip as he deliberated. The fact that he was actually thinking about this spoke volumes and he knew this. It's just…he was a little…fine, he was worried about Damien. More worried about him than he was concerned about Violet right now. Yes, he was concerned about her but…it wasn't as intense. In fact, anything he felt for her had never been intense. She was a sweet girl and she deserved to be with someone who could treat her like a princess. But was he just letting all the stress of tonight and all the others get to him? Was he letting them dictate what he was and was not going to do? Didn't she deserve more time? More time for him to come to a more satisfactory conclusion?

A moment later and he said, "Give me a minute?"

Damien nodded and said nothing, Kyle leaving his side to go to Violet's. The Jew watched as the girl's face brightened and he felt a tug in his gut. Yes, yes, this was going to be tough.

"Hey," he greeted, "are you doing all right?"

"I'm okay," Violet answered with that soft voice of hers. "It was exciting back there, wasn't it?"

"Yeah, it got a bit crazy," Kyle agreed, looking back towards the TP'ed hotel warily.

"How about we go now?" Violet suggested. "I think Prom's over."

"I think you'd be right about that," Kyle said.

"Come on," Violet said, holding a hand out to him.

"Listen," Kyle spoke, taking Violet's hand with both of his. "I'm gonna stay here for a bit, make sure that Damien's okay."

"Huh?" Violet's head cocked as she looked him, puzzled. "Aren't you going to take me home?"

Geez, this was getting hard. "I'd like to…but I don't want to…look, you're a sweet girl Violet and anyone that gets you is lucky," Kyle explained. "I just feel like that, well… How do I put this? You're a good friend Violet but I don't see us going any further than that is what I'm trying to say, I think."

"Friend…?" Violet repeated, her voice a bit distant.

Kyle squeezed her hand gently, hoping that it was comforting. "Yeah, I mean, you see…I learned something today. You can't force yourself to _like_ like someone more than you are able to. I like you Violet, as a friend, but I can't see us progressing any further than that and I don't want to hold you back from finding someone who will treat you in the way you deserve. You can like someone a whole lot but just because you like them in a _like_ like way doesn't mean that they like you the same way. But that's just life. You gotta keep truckin'. But you can't force feelings where they can't go. It's just not right to either person."

"Are…are you b-b-breaking up? With me?" Violet asked, her voice cracking a bit.

Kyle wasn't aware that they were girlfriend and boyfriend; they were just two friends who were trying out the waters with one another, weren't they? Did you have to be girlfriend and boyfriend just to date one another or something? Was that the rule?

"If that's how you want to put it, I guess so," Kyle answered, unable to say it any other way. "I'm sorry if I put any wrong ideas in your head. You're a good friend Violet but I don't feel anything more for you than that. I'm sorry."

"No, no, it's okay," Violet said, her small smile quivering, giving the impression that she was trying to be strong when she was really on the verge of losing it. "I…I think I understand."

"If you ever need to talk, you know you can come to me, right?" Kyle asked. The last thing he wanted was for there to be any hard feelings.

"I know," Violet said, her voice softer than ever.

Sighing, Kyle brought her into a hug and squeezed her with all his tired might. "Don't let anybody tell you you're not special, because you are. You'll find someone, Violet. I promise you that."

Violet nodded and Kyle pushed a lock of hair to a side so that he could peck her on her forehead. Pulling away, Violet's checks blushed and she stuttered, "I-I'm gon-gonna find someone who'll…who'll g-give me a ride."

Kyle backed away and watched sadly as the girl left. He really didn't like having to do this with anyone. Hopefully this would be the last time he'd ever have to.

Damien watched him as he returned and once he was a few feet away, he asked, "So how did it go?"

"Don't really want to talk about it," Kyle said, not looking at the Antichrist. "Let's just get you back to wherever you're staying. Where is Charlie's house anyway?"

"I'll show you," Damien said, pushing away from the back of the ambulance, refusing any further medical treatment. "And if you'd like, how about you stay for a bit?"

* * *

><p>Stan was a bit peeved that his Master Chief costume was…not more pristine but at the very least he had Kyra nearby. The girl hadn't left his side yet so that meant…something. He didn't know what yet.<p>

And speaking of something else he didn't know, he had no idea where his dad was. Hopefully it would remain that way—

"Staaaan! Where are you? I can't see you anywhere! Staaaan!"

Hopefully it would remain that way.

In the meantime… "Pretty wild, right?" he asked her. "Didn't see _any_ of that coming."

"I'm good," Kyra said. "Oh, before I forget."

"Forget what—" A punch to the face cut him off. He had had harder blows before so it really didn't hurt him but it was the shock, not seeing it coming that did the most damage. "Ow! What'd you do that for!"

"That's for disrespecting the Master Chief!" Kyra huffed, looking away from her nose up in the air, arms crossed.

"But I couldn't get your attention any other way!" Stan whined.

"You could have just walked up to me and asked me instead," Kyra replied.

"But it wouldn't have been as awesome!"

"No, it would have been less embarrassing and emasculating."

"What's your answer?" Stan decided to cut through the chitchat and defense of his truly awesome plan. "Back there, I asked you if you would take me back. Will you?"

It was the moment of truth now. Hold your breath people, Stan was about to get his answer at last!

Kyra blew air through her lips, the flaps of skin bouncing against one another. "After everything that's happened…Stan, if you want me back, _truly_ want me back, you're going to have to do something first."

Stan swallowed. "What? Whatever it is, I'll do it! I have nothing else left to lose!"

"Well, Stan, the first thing you gotta do…is defeat all seven of my evil exes in single combat using all sorts of Japanese weapons and other various media crap," Kyra declared.

"Um…but aren't I your _first_ boyfriend though?" Stan asked, confused and wondering when she had ever gotten around to getting seven other boyfriends.

Kyra blinked. "Oh yeah, I guess that takes care of that then."

"So…" Stan prompted.

"You're lucky you're so cute," Kyra said as she leaned in and pecked him on the lips.

* * *

><p>"Happy now?" Charlie asked, no emotion in her voice whatsoever.<p>

"Very much," Bain answered, relatively clean in comparison to the others. How he had managed that, Charlie didn't know and didn't care.

"So what did you do? Besides get someone to TP the whole place?" Charlie asked.

"Used a giant fan to cover everyone in fecal matter, rained down fake blood from the sprinkler system, unleashed a flood of cat urine from underneath the stage," Bain listed off, his voice airy as if he was reminiscing. "No fire this time. The best part of all this, though, is that they think my sister is the one responsible. Future questioning will reveal that no, she was acting alone and did not plan the latter part of the night but it will give me enough time to iron out an alibi. Care to take part in it?"

"I don't want to be any more involved than I already am," Charlie rolled her eyes. "You are getting too good with pulling this kind of shit and getting others blamed for it."

"I try," Bain shrugged. "It's a shame, though. I won't be able to meet my pen pal. Maybe another time."

"Just drive me home, will you," Charlie groaned.

"I suppose I could," Bain said. "I'll just delay the rendezvous with my pink-haired accomplice for later. She can wait a couple hours, yes?"

* * *

><p>Far apart from the crowd of students and emergency response workers, a certain pair of masked vigilantes watched silently.<p>

"I thought I told you to get out while you still could," Mysterion stated, not looking at his female companion.

"I just saw him and…and I remembered what he did to me the last time we met and I didn't want to risk him going through some evil plot like he just did," Le Chat Noir hastily explained. "I thought I could stop him and…"

"It was a reckless move on your part and you got yourself placed in mortal danger," Mysterion chastised. "You could have gotten yourself killed."

"But he almost killed you more times than me," Le Chat Noir protested quietly, looking away, ashamed.

"Would you let me finish?" Mysterion asked.

She nodded and remained quiet.

"As I was saying, you could have really gotten yourself hurt or worse, killed," Mysterion continued. "But…had you not, things could have been a lot worse."

"What are you saying?" Le Chat Noir asked.

"Neither of us had a clue of what Bain was up to or the fact he had enlisted his sister of all people," Mysterion said. "If she had been allowed to continue, she could have hurt a lot more people, maybe even killed someone."

"And she was the one who was attacking all those Prom candidates, wasn't she?" Le Chat Noir mentioned.

"According to Bain, at least, and you can't trust half of what he says," Mysterion said. Turning his unhooded head towards her, the masked but stained with shit and fake blood vigilante noted the blush on his cat-themed companion. "Regardless of how things happened, you…did a good job back there."

"W-what?" Le Chat Noir stammered, her cheeks reddening further.

"You stopped a crazed gunman…gun woman before she could really get started," Mysterion explained. "That's nothing to make little of. You have my gratitude."

"Really?" she squeaked. "Then…then can I get a…a Spiderman kiss from you?"

"No," Mysterion answered, turning away from her.

One second. Two seconds. Three…

"Oh come on! I just saved the day!" Le Chat Noir complained.

"You gotta do better than this if that's what you want," Mysterion smirked, lighting up a bushel of fire crackers and tossing them casually to the ground.

He was gone before the last one exploded and Le Chat Noir was able to open her eyes.

"Goddamn it!"

* * *

><p>The silence of the night was broken only by the sound of a lone police car driving up the road. It was going to be a bit; the Park County Police Department was quite a distance away from the Airport Hilton as well as some altitude. But Yates knew the way and with his partner Murphy riding shotgun, there was little to worry about except for the state of their suspect in the back seat.<p>

"You know, I just can't wrap my mind around it," Yates said. "What's a girl like her doing crashing someone else's prom? I mean she's not a bad looking person so what's she doing going all crazy like that?"

"Beats me," Murphy shrugged. "The whole world's going crazy if you ask me."

"Damn right it is," Yates agreed. "Hot girls becoming terrorists and Barbrady showing up to a crime scene first. It's all going to hell."

"I don't know about Barbrady but the hot girls part is still a shame," Murphy said.

"Say, we got a hot girl in the back," Yates mentioned. "She might have an idea what's going through all the crazy hot girls' heads."

"Yeah, you're right!" Murphy said. Turning in his seat, he took a good look at their suspect. "Hey, uh, miss? Sorry I don't know your name but could you just tell us why you—I mean, people think you pulled all that crazy stuff at the hotel?"

To Murphy's slight astonishment, the loud, demanding girl who Yates almost had to wrestle into the back was so delicate-looking, radiating waves of shyness that it made him doubt all the accounts he had managed to take from all the various witnesses of what happened.

"I…I have to…pee," the girl said softly, looking to a side as if she was embarrassed.

"What did she say?" Yates asked.

"She says she…has to pee," Murphy answered hesitantly.

Yates was silent for a minute, peering at the girl through the overhead rearview mirror. "Well, if she has to pee, we'll pull over at the first place we come to. It'll, uh, be a while so I hope you can hold it, missy."

"But I didn't go before and it's an emergency!" the girl protested. "I…I'm prairie-dogging!"

"Prairie-dogging? What's that?" Yates asked.

"Oh, it's a thing kids say when they have to go number two real bad," Murphy explained. "You know, how a prairie-dog goes up and down?"

"Oh, I see," Yates said. A blink later… "Holy shit! Just let me pull over! When you got to go, you got to go!"

A few minutes later, the car was pulling from the curb where Yates had stopped it though with one minor problem. Neither Yates nor Murphy were in the car.

Rubbing the back of his head where he had been hit with a nightstick, Yates wondered out loud, "How'd that happen?"

* * *

><p>Letting out a big "Whoooo!" Wolf draped his ruined sports jacket onto the cashier's counter at the closest Black Market location. Tonight had been…well, it had been a trial. He had never had to mingle with so many people outside of his store before. He was still recovering from the stress of it all!<p>

But now it was time to unwind, kick back and maybe do some accounting equations. Say, he should look in on his investment with the prom election super PACs! The whole thing was over and done with, a new king chosen, a queen not chosen, blah, blah, blah, how much did he make on this one?

It was going to be big, he was sure of it. He had spent all that money and now it was going to come right back in. Less retail restrictions, more business, all of it thanks to him having a hand in the elected person's, eh, election.

Carry the one here, that five there, okay, that was a lot of cash right there. No biggie, you had to spend money to earn money, you know? How's about some predictions? Yeah, let's see what number he should be expecting in the next few days. He fully expected McCormick to come through on lifting those restrictions and regulations so what would that add up to?

Uh huh. Huh. Mmhmm. Carry that over. Subtract that. A few more minuses there and…

That couldn't be right.

Wolf frowned and did the calculations all over again. When those showed an even less than pleasing number, he did them again. And again. Then again for the fifth time. This…this couldn't be. He…no, this wasn't possible! He…

He had _lost_ money on this! _Lost money_! This was impossible! This…this was!

Wait, according to his calculations…there weren't any restrictions or regulations taking money away. Nothing had been interfering with the profit of his business! That would mean…that…that…

He had spent all that money for nothing…

Throwing his head back, Wolf unleashed yet another perfect imitation of Darth Vader's, "NOOOOooooooo…"

* * *

><p>Bain had taken his time getting back to his house. Well, first he had taken his time taking Charlotte home. The atmosphere between the two of them had been pleasant, a real odd occurrence and one that should be prolonged for as long as possible. Last he recalled such a moment, it had been interrupted by a phone call from the police.<p>

And before you ask, he had nothing to do with the reason for that call. It…it was a private matter of Charlotte's family. End of story.

But now he was back at his abode, his base of operations so to speak, and he felt like it was time to call it a night. He'd contact Sunny later and see what the status of that one girl's phone was. It would be too much to ask that his insipid minion erase that recording by herself.

He noticed his father's car was parked in the driveway but instead of taking his usual spot, Bain decided to park on the curb this one time. He was feeling lazy tonight and he had a feeling he'd be running all over town tomorrow anyway. Glancing to the passenger seat, he noticed that Charlotte had left her shoes behind.

The whore never really liked to wear footwear that much did she? He supposed he'd have to return them to her…sometime tomorrow, perhaps early enough that she would make him some pancakes in gratitude? Or maybe something more… It was an entertaining thought there and he chuckled as he got out of the driver's seat and slammed the door behind him.

With keys in hand, he approached the front door with the house key singled out, not in the least bit perturbed by the darkened windows. His parental figures must have retired already. They probably hadn't heard about Sierra's arrest yet. Oh what he'd give to see their faces when that bitch woke them up at two in the morning, calling from the police station and begging for some bail money.

If only he had gotten around to actually putting a camera in their room…never mind, he rather not record anything that involved sexual activity in his parent's bedroom.

He did not want a firsthand account of the process that conceived him.

Unlocking the front door, he slipped in quietly and closed his entrance behind him. He waited a moment for his eyes to adjust to the darkness of the living room and in that time his nose caught a whiff of something in the air.

Frowning, he took in a deep breath, trying to take in more of that smell and searching his mind for what it could be. It was familiar, that much he knew but he couldn't quite place it. It was on the tip of his tongue too…

The ceiling light lit up and Bain flinched from it, holding a hand in front of his optic orbs while his eyelids tried to shield the sensitive organs. He grew used to the light and lowered his hand, blinking as he searched for whoever was responsible. Winslow might get another shot at glory at this rate…

"You think you're so clever, don't you?"

Oh, of all the voices he had had the trauma to learn…

It couldn't be possible… She was supposed to be in a five by seven cell at the Park County Police Department! He had seen her get taken away himself and had enjoyed every millisecond of it!

"How did you…?" Bain trailed off as he finally spotted her, a crowbar being held casually in one hand.

Fucking Sierra…

"No matter how old they get, men are always suckers for a hot babe," Sierra sneered, planting a hand on her cocked hip. "Sucks that you don't have _my_ looks, doesn't it?"

"You seemed to have grown a brain in a short amount of time," Bain spat. "Finally figured out that knowledge begins with a k and not an n?"

"Knowledge starts with a k?" Sierra repeated, frowning at him.

Apparently not.

While his now confirmed to be stupid, whorish sister pondered on this, Bain got a good look at her. Well, the lower part of her ruined prom dress was still on but she had covered up her top with that black turtleneck of hers, the same one she used in her attacks on the prom queen candidates.

Didn't clean up much, though. Looked like something sticky was on that turtleneck. Leftover fake blood? Maybe he had ordered too much corn syrup.

"Sh-shut up! You're just trying to confuse me!" Sierra screamed at him, pointing the crowbar straight at him, something flicking off of it.

Bain raised an eyebrow at her. "You do a better job of doing that to yourself than I ever could." He took a step forward but paused when he could have sworn the carpet squelched under his foot.

"In your dreams!" Sierra retorted as she pulled the crowbar back and let it carelessly slap against her shoulder, that something from earlier flicking off it again but then splattering on the wall behind her. Looked like droplets from over here. Dark little droplets. Dark little droplets that were ever so slowly slipping down the wall paper in a way that he recognized.

There was some kind of liquid on that crowbar…and was it him or was it _red_ in color?

"What's wrong? See something?" Sierra taunted. She knew something he didn't know. She always had that tone of voice when she knew something he didn't and wanted to lord it over him.

"What are you hiding?" he accused, narrowing his eyes at her.

"Nothing much," Sierra answered smugly. "Just Mom and Dad's bodies in their bedroom."

_She didn't…_

The thought just popped up into his head and he tried to banish it immediately because Sierra wouldn't go that far. She was too dependent on others to even _contemplate_ going _that_ far.

"You're lying," he shot. "You don't have the _guts_ much less the _brains_ to pull that off."

"Well, it's their brains that are bashed in," Sierra giggled at him. "And the best part is…everyone's going to think that you did it."

Bain shook his head in denial. He…he just couldn't believe this. But if she was telling the truth…and that both of their parents were upstairs…most likely still in bed…their heads crushed in, blood splattered on the walls, their brains leaking out of their skulls…and she was the one responsible for that and….not him…

"Speechless? You're usually more talkative than that," Sierra teased. "You haven't even asked why they would think you did it. Well, let me tell you that you won't be able deny any of it because dead men don't talk."

Distracted as he was, he didn't notice that she had pulled out a match and had struck it against the wall, setting it aflame. And then she was tossing it onto the carpet where the gasoline that had been soaked into it caught on fire.

* * *

><p>Marcus's mood was not being lifted by the jolly tune that Barbrady was whistling the whole way back to the station. In a sense, he was a bit…shell-shocked.<p>

Yeah, shell-shocked sounded like the right word. What else was he supposed to feel, especially when the person he loved and hoped maybe to take further steps into a more intimate relationship with was being accused of being a political terrorist. It…it didn't make any sense to him! Sierra was supposed to be in Colorado Springs, not here! What was she doing here?

"Cheer up Mackey!" Barbrady said cheerfully. "We just arrested us a big time criminal! Now the guys from county are gonna have to treat us with respect! Don't be such a Debbie Downer, 'kay?"

"Sir, she's my girlfriend," Marcus grunted, staring out at the passing landscape through the passenger side window.

"She is? Wow, you certainly got an eye for the lookers," Barbrady whistled. "A shame that she had to go ahead and do this. Kinda sours things up, if you get my meaning."

"It doesn't make any sense!" Marcus exclaimed, resting his forehead against the Plexiglas window. "She's one of the kindest, most beautiful people that I've ever met! She's supposed to be in school and studying for her finals! Why is she here and being accused of these awful things!"

"Well, in my experience, you'd be surprised what people are truly capable of," Barbrady said and while his voice was its usual blunt and hick-sounding tone, his words were anything but. "A few years back, we had this hot kindergarten teacher getting it on with one of her students. Women are the most mysterious creatures on this planet and as a guy, I just can't figure out what's going through their heads."

Marcus was quiet, eyes still looking through the window. The car was taking a turn, the street becoming familiar as buildings began blocking off the natural sight of mountains.

"Yep, they're mysterious alright," Barbrady continued. "That's why I usually have to taze them before I handcuff 'em. They can be the gentlest of creatures one moment and unholy demonspawn the next."

Marcus frowned but continued to say nothing. Barbrady continued to ramble on until they finally reached the town's local police station. Unbuckling his seatbelt, he got out of the vehicle but stayed long enough to say, "I'm going to head over to her parents' house. They…they should be told about what's happened."

"Well, if you think that's best, go on ahead," Barbrady said. "I'm gonna cruise around, see if I can't find anymore crooks around. The way I'm feelin', I can take on the whole world!"

"That's just the adrenaline high you're going through," Marcus sighed.

"Going on nearly two hours!" Barbrady chirped. "Catch ya later!"

With that, Barbrady took off into the night, Marcus left all by his lonesome, accompanied only by his tangled up thoughts.

* * *

><p>The flames spread at an accelerated rate, all thanks to the gasoline that had been spilled all around the house. The blaze licked at the walls, raced up the stairs to the second story, its heat unbearable to those who happened to be human. Now that he was paying attention, Bain could see the emptied gas cans that were placed randomly on the floor and it was not hard to figure out where she got so many.<p>

His father's obsession with running out of gas in his car had come to bite him in the ass. But Sierra couldn't have emptied them all; there were those in the basement as well as whatever remained in the garage.

They had maybe a few minutes to get out of here if they wanted to keep their lives and odds were the smoke wasn't going to kill them but the explosions resulting from when the fire reached their father's stockpiles…

Yet, none of that seemed to matter anymore. His fists clenched so tightly that his knuckles were turning white, Bain could only focus on one little fact. Sierra had beat him to murdering their parents. Yes, it was a fantasy he had had for quite a few years and one he knew he could never fulfill. It was just too risky, no matter how much he wanted to. And yet, Sierra just waltzes in and does it without qualm, just out of the blue, and now she's standing right there, lording that fact over him like she did everything else.

"What's wong? Does wittle baby bwother want to cwy?" Sierra taunted, using a babying voice to further torment him. She moved from her original spot as the flames were getting too close to her and stopped right in front of the dining room table, tightening her grip on her crowbar as she readied herself for a fight.

Bain saw red. It didn't matter anymore. His composure, his sophisticated front, his superiority, none of it. All that did matter was his hands wrapping around that neck of hers…

He roared as he charged her, dropping every single façade he had and revealing the monster that hid just beneath his skin. Sierra looked startled, more than likely caught off guard by the amount of anger he was expressing. But like before, it didn't matter anymore as Bain was right at her, tackling her and lifting her right off her feet, continuing to move until the two of them reached the dining room table where he slammed her down on top of it.

Due to being weakened by the fire, two of the table's legs gave in, the end that Sierra now laid on top of crashing down onto the floor. Bain wasted no time in wrapping his hands around that despicable neck and squeezed with all his might, determined that if he couldn't have their parents then he could at least have his sister.

Nothing mattered anymore.

Chuckling darkly, he released one hand from her neck and used it to bitchslap her, growling out, "What's wrong? Don't you want to play with baby brother?" Another slap. "Well?" Slap. "Don't you?" Slap. Slap. "DON'T YOU?" Punch.

Drawing the hand back, he took out Winslow, the light of the fire shining off of it malevolently. "I'd like you to meet my best friend," Bain cackled as he held the blade high up in the air. "He's just _dying_ to meet you!"

Sierra wheezed but as Winslow began to descend, she brought her crowbar up and cracked it against the side of his face, the metal bar not stopping as it continued its arc into his arm. His aim jarred, Winslow stabbed into the table mere inches away from where Sierra's head was. Removing his other hand from her neck, no longer thinking straight anymore, Bain grabbed Sierra's crowbar wielding arm and held it down while pulling Winslow out of the table for another shot.

This time when Winslow came down, Sierra was able to whip her head out of the way so that Winslow missed again. However, now Bain wasn't completely hovering over her and it gave Sierra enough leverage to shove Bain away and then pushing him off the table and into one of the burning chairs, the piece of furniture shattering into pieces as Bain was run through it.

Holding her neck and coughing, Sierra pulled away from the slanted table and stumbled back into the living room. Not the best idea on her part, the room was so full of smoke now and it would be harder to get much needed air into her lungs.

"Where're you going? Don't you want to _play_ anymore?" Bain hissed from behind her.

It was obvious she was scared. Never in her wildest dreams would she have ever believed what dark creature hid beneath her brother's skin but that was too bad for her. She did, though, spin around, swinging her crowbar around in an attempt to either hit or force him to back away.

Bain had seen it coming a mile away and was ready for it. He caught the bar itself and used its speed against its wielder to tear it out of her grip. Reversing the stick of metal, Bain swung the blunt instrument and landed the blow right in the side of her head. Without a second thought, he threw the crowbar away and approached his crouching flesh-and-blood, Winslow taking back its place in his right hand.

"I'm going to cut that precious face of yours off," Bain snarled. "I'll skin it off. Make you as every bit as ugly that you really are."

"No!" Sierra cried out, obviously terrified. The fear only fed Bain's irrational rampage and it blinded him further to the dangerous plight they were in. He didn't care anymore…because none of it matter anymore.

"I'm going to wring that neck, cut out that tongue, rip out that voice box so I never have to hear your wretched voice again." The words were spilling out of him now and he couldn't stop himself. No, he wouldn't stop himself. Not this time. Not even as the fire was spreading along the ceiling above them, weakening the second story supports. "I'll bite off every single finger. And then I'll carve out your still-beating heart so that you can watch as it slows down."

"Go away! You monster!" Sierra screamed, scrambling back to her feet and trying to make a rush for the door.

Bain growled but grabbed the whipping end of her dress, yanking back on it just as Sierra's balance was most precarious. Tripping, she fell right onto her stomach but she wouldn't give in as she kept dragging herself along the floor, trying to get away from him.

How he was enjoying this.

He calmly approached her as the ceiling above began to groan and kicked her in the side, flipping her onto her back. Spurn by desperation and fear, Sierra kicked a foot out and got him in the gut causing him to stumble away and fall over the back over the couch. By the time Bain got back onto his feet, Sierra was practically at the door.

No! He couldn't let her escape! Not when she was still alive! Adjusting his hold on Winslow, he threw the blade straight at her, missing her by an inch but lodging the blade right in the door hinge. As Sierra pulled at the door, she wailed in dismay when it wouldn't budge open.

"You're not going anywhere," Bain growled darkly. "Not until I've ripped out every strand of hair off of your head you—"

The ceiling over the living room gave one last groan before it tore open, collapsing only halfway. The floor of the second story above them was now slanted which allowed the king-sized bed above to slide out of the master bedroom and right down into Bain.

"—shit."

Bain barely had time to take in the bodies of her parents as the heavy bed slammed into him and bashed his head into the floor. Pinned down, his parent's bloody corpses flopping off the bed to rest on either side of him, Bain gasped as he tried to fill his lungs after having his breath knocked out of him.

Instead, what he got was a lungful of smoke and he coughed harshly, trying to get the carbon monoxide out. Combined with blow to his head, his body decided to turn off consciousness and throw Bain deep into darkness.

* * *

><p>The air was cool as Charlie strolled down the sidewalk. She had just reached her bedroom when she had realized she had forgotten her shoes in Bain's car. After a little debate with herself, she decided to say "fuck it," changed, and headed on out to retrieve the little bastards.<p>

It gave her an excuse to get out of the house as well as give her one last dose of Bain's company for the night. With all the prom stuff going on, she had to admit that she felt a bit neglected. Was she trying to make up lost time with the asshole or something?

Okay, she could admit that she missed him. How fucking pathetic. She had fallen pretty far hadn't she? Oh well, just suck it up and deal with it.

She just knew, though, that he was going to hang it over her head. It would be something he would do.

At least it would take some time to reach his house. He lived several blocks away, nestled in the old folks' neighborhood, so she had time to come up with some reasonable excuse to stick around outside of getting her shoes back.

As she drew closer and closer, something felt off. It was a feeling that got worse and worse the further she went. What could it be, though? Was it something in the air? That odd orange glow some distance away? How unseasonably warm it was in this town? The increased pollen in the air that were driving allergies wild? Hold up, orange glow? She could see it from where she was and she knew what that glow meant.

She had seen many house fires in her day…and this was Bain's street right? Yep it was…and hopefully it wasn't that bastard's house that was on fire. She began jogging, speeding up as house after house passed her and dread began balling up in her stomach. She had walked down this street enough times to know how many houses she had to pass before she reached Bain's and she was running out of houses to count.

There was a small crowd of old people in bathrobes and underwear, all watching and clucking about the fire, none of them doing anything that would get them any closer to the unbearable heat. And to Charlie's dismay, it was Bain's house that was on fire.

Fear gripped her and she began calling out every single name she had ever called him, hoping that he would respond and walk up to her and call her a whore. All she got were shocked and disapproving looks from the small crowd but there was no Bain. She soon spotted his car parked nearby and she knew she couldn't deny it any further.

It was when someone called out that they had called the fire department that Charlie burst into action, running for the front door and trying to kick it down. When it held fast after a kick or two, she changed directions, ignoring all the old folk as she headed for the fence and leaped over it with ease. Flames billowed out of broken windows but she ignored them as she headed for the back patio and the glass doors there.

Grabbing one of the patio chairs, she used it to shatter the cracked glass but pulled away as intense heat rushed at her. Not in the least bit swayed, Charlie barreled into the burning house, keeping low so that she didn't breathe in any of the smoke.

Now where in hell was that bastard? Was he upstairs? In the bathroom? On the first floor? Where—

She came to a stop when she found Sierra unintentionally blocking the way into the living room. Charlie's first thought was _what is she doing here_ which was dismissed in favor of finding out where Bain was. A big mistake as she would find out soon enough.

"Where's Bain?" she yelled out over the roar of the fire.

"Forget about him!" Sierra coughed out. "We have to get out of here!"

Grabbing Sierra by the front of her turtleneck, Charlie spat into her face, "Not without Bain!"

"He's in there!" Sierra gestured to the living room. "Deserves what he's going to get for using me, using us! Leave him!"

"Whatever." Charlie shoved Sierra away and tried to make her way further into the house. Finely honed danger senses, trained from years of fighting and surviving her late brother Jack's murderous affections, had her ducking under the crowbar which smashed into the doorway, chips of wood splintering from the impact.

Backing away, Charlie stared incredulously at Bain sister. That…_bitch_ hadn't just tried to attack her.

"He dies here!" Sierra declared. "I won't let you ruin everything!"

Pretty princess had fucked with the _wrong_ person.

Charlie was ready for the next swing and she practically swatted the crowbar out of Sierra's hands. With her other hand, she backhanded Sierra, the force of the blow snapping Sierra's head to a side. Recovering her other hand, she used it to grab the other girl's shoulder and shove her around so that her back was towards her.

Raising up a foot, she landed a kick right into Sierra's back, curiously about the same place that she had stabbed Jack the, thankfully, last time they had met. The blow sent Sierra crashing through the door that led to the basement and Charlie ignored Sierra's scream as she fell down the steps, preferring instead to go into the living room and see if she couldn't salvage Bain out of it.

He was so going to owe her when she got him out here, alive.

* * *

><p>Sierra's little tumble into the basement was wild and she kept rolling over herself, her limbs going every which way. At one point she landed on her neck funny, something snapped, and the next thing she knew she was at the foot of the stairs on her back, facing the stairs with something hard cushioning her head.<p>

She couldn't feel her body, she must have been that sore but when she tried to move, there was no response. Struggling, the best she could move was just her head to a side where she faced the gathering of gas cans, a couple of which were open and on their sides, spilling their fluids out.

Why couldn't she move? What was wrong with her? She needed to get out of here! The place was on fire and the pile of gas cans she had ransacked earlier was in danger of catching on fire. She could barely see the flames eating at the support beams overhead but she couldn't…get…her body…to do…anything!

Gasoline washed up against her cheek and her fear heightened as her perilous situation became even more dangerous. Sierra tried use her voice, call out to anyone who could hear her but all that sound she could make was a whimper.

A flame fell from the ceiling, the fire eating through the floor above and soon the spilt gasoline caught on aflame. Sierra could do nothing but moan in horror as the flames raced along the flammable liquid, heading straight towards her unmoving body.

She wasn't even able to scream as the flames began eating her alive.

* * *

><p>"Fucking Christ," Charlie swore as she found Bain at last. Pinned under a bed, bodies on either side of him. He just couldn't make this easy, could he? She swatted at the smoke, trying to drive it away and make it easier to breathe. Her swats soon became pats as she noticed some of the flames licking at Bain's coat.<p>

Needless to say, she was refusing to look at the bodies because she could have sworn they were Bain's parents. Not that she knew them well but…she didn't want to think about that right now.

She had to get them out of here, before they both were killed.

Bracing herself against the bed, she tried lifting it up enough so that she could at least try and pull Bain out from under it. Damn, this thing weighed a fucking ton and she could barely get it up a few inches.

Charlie wasn't about to give up, not now or ever. She had lost too many people already and she didn't want to lose another one. She tried again and had the same results as before.

Fuck! Come on! She punched the mattress and tried to push it off so as the make the bed frame easier to move. As it turned out, that hadn't been the best idea she had. As soon as she had shoved a portion of the mattress off, it slid into some hungry flames and it was barely a heartbeat later that the sheets were blazing.

Coughing from the acrid smell of smoke, Charlie quickly backed up to the bed frame and tried with all her strength to lift it up again. Her muscles were straining, burning with exertion as well as the lack of oxygen that was reaching them. Yet she would not give up. She'd rather die in this fire then escape…alone.

"Come on! Come on!" she grunted through clenched teeth. "Come! On!"

Barely any new progress from what she had done before. God fucking damn it! Why couldn't she save this fucker? Why?

Without warning, the bed frame rose about a foot and Charlie blinked at it in shock. What…?

"Grab him!" a voice hissed from behind her. Shaken out of her shock, Charlie did as the voice ordered and released one hand from the heated bed frame to reach out for Bain. She could barely reach a leg…but she could grab the end of his trench coat! Grabbing the material in her fist, she pulled on it and dragged Bain a bit closer to her. It was enough for her to grab his leg and pull again, this time managing to get him almost halfway out.

One more time! There! She released her hold on the bed frame and grabbed Bain, pulling him away just in time as her unknown helper dropped the piece of furniture. Getting one of Bain's arms around her shoulder, Charlie stumbled away from the burning bed instead of making a quick getaway due to the oxygen deprivation she was suffering.

Was Bain heavier or something? Maybe all this heat was sapping her strength. Bain's weight lessened as she was helped by the young man that had braved the flames as she had and suddenly, it seemed like they were almost out of this.

"Come on!" the guy yelled at her. "Before the gas goes up! Hurry!"

All the prompting she needed though she wasn't moving at the speed she wanted to. She was so freaking tired… They were out of the living room, in the kitchen now, passing the entrance to the basement and almost…the patio!

They were outside now but the young man kept pressing forward, trying to get them as far away from the house as possible. Charlie couldn't take it anymore, though. She collapsed onto the ground, letting Bain's arm slip away as he his unconscious—_burning!_—body was dragged away. She could still feel the heat from the house but she couldn't force herself to go any further.

She was just so…so tired…so…

The next thing Charlie knew, she was being dragged along the ground, the same young man from before committing the deed. She stared up at him lethargically, wondering who the hell he was and why he would even… It didn't make any sense…

Whatever thinking she could have done was interrupted as the garage exploded and the last of Charlie's strength faded away along with her consciousness.

* * *

><p>Author's Note: I'd like to give some credit to Beyond-The-Horizon for the StanKyra scene. I may have taken some lines from a conversation I had with her some time ago (thank you Fanfiction for PMs!) and included them into the chapter. I'd also like to thank ShadowMajin for the Wolf scene as that one came solely from him. What jokes you can come up with just by talking and brainstorming…


	28. With Uncertainty Abound

Author's Note: And thus _Malicious Motives_ comes to an end. I will admit that some stuff could have been better. Particularly, the stuff with Sierra could have been much stronger. I had always intended from the first chapter that Sierra was going to be the antagonist but I didn't build her up as a threat very well. Oh well, _c'est la vie_ say the old folks, it goes to show you never can tell and we move on.

Poll results. The most popular OC in _Malicious Motives_ is…the Bus Driver. In second place we have a tie with Bain and Kyra. And in the next place, it's another tie between Gwendolyn/Wendy 2, Ella, Roxi, and Bonnie.

As I always do, I thank **ShadowMajin** and **Beyond the Horizon** for practically reviewing every chapter no matter how long it took them to do so. And now to another important topic: what comes next. Well, I have plans for yet _another_ sequel and the same as before goes. If your OC was featured in this one, leave a review or PM that says I can use them again. However, if you do so, be sure to answer these questions when or if you do:

What job would they have? List a job they would have if they were successful and a second job if they weren't successful.

Which side: Heaven or Hell? Give a reason why they would choose Heaven and why they would choose Hell.

What would they sell his/her soul for? Try to be as materialistic as possible. It can be anything from a sandwich to an autographed headshot of their favorite actor.

Answer those three questions, as they will be relevant to the next installment. Don't answer them and you will have to resubmit your OC when the sequel comes out and you will still have to answer those questions. If you don't, your character will be written out of the story line and don't think I haven't done it before. Also, I starting sneaking little things in that will be part of the sequel a few chapters ago but you won't know what they are until later. Much later.

It's been a blast but now let's bring MM to an end, shall we? Enjoy.

Disclaimer: I do not own South Park.

Warning: language, violence, death

With Uncertainty Abound

Well this was familiar, wasn't it?

Charlie was really beginning to dislike hospitals. When she had been diagnosed and treated for cancer, that had been different. It seemed like every time she went to one now, it was because Bain was in it. First he was shot by Christophe, then he nearly drowned in Stark's Pond, and now he was recovering from being in a burning building for too long.

He just couldn't keep himself out of life-threatening situations, could he?

Sigh…maybe the last time they were here had a greater impact on her than she had thought. Last time had been that previously mentioned drowning and when he had woken up from the coma he had been in, Bain had come out with a case of amnesia.

Not that she would admit it but she was afraid that the same thing would happen when Bain woke up this time. It had yet to be declared that he was in a coma but he had breathed in a lot of smoke back at his house. Or at least, Charlie believed he had breathed in a lot of smoke; she hadn't been there when the fire started.

Unlike last time, when the worst Bain had was a severe case of hypothermia, the injuries he had were more burn related. First to second degree thanks to his trench coat catching on fire. He was going to have to throw it away since it was far too damaged to be of any use anymore. Charlie would have done it herself but she didn't want to deal with the inevitable shitstorm that would result.

Of course…Bain didn't have a lot anymore. All he had left was his car and whatever he had left inside of it. Well…that and what remained of Winslow. The knife wasn't that damaged but a new hilt would go a long way…

She wasn't making any of this better, was she?

It's just…she didn't like seeing him hooked up to all that equipment, a monitor keeping track of his every heartbeat, IVs dripping medications and nutrients directly into his blood stream, and tubes hooking him up to a couple of air tanks. Bain was already so small and skinny that this only made him look so much more frailer. The bandage on the side of his face and down his neck made that even more so.

He could take a punch; Charlie knew that personally.

The beeps from the heart monitor quickened and Charlie perked up, recalling that this was a sign of bodily arousal. Was Bain waking up?

For moment, she felt nervous. Was it going to be like last time? Was he not going to remember anything?

Bain's eyelids were moving rhythmically, tensing for a second before prying open. Charlie swallowed, watching those heterochromatic eyes stare up at the ceiling blankly for a moment and then shifting ever so slowly to gaze directly at her.

"You look like shit," Bain rasped. His eyes returned to the ceiling and he added, "You can relax. I know who you are, whore."

Charlie would have never expected to feel so much relief at hearing that slur.

"It's good to know you're still the same asshole," she replied. "Now I don't have to babysit your ass again."

Bain merely grunted at that. It didn't seem like he had much to say. Charlie on the other hand…

"What happened back there?" she pressed. "Between you and your sister?" she clarified.

"I would assume…the same thing that happened…between you and your brother," Bain's hoarse voice answered. A low blow there; Charlie clenched a fist at that but had to remind herself that hitting Bain would only delay his recovery. She could always beat him up after he got better. "Where…is that cunt? Do you know?"

"They found whatever was left of her…eh…" Charlie didn't know how to phrase this last part. "I kicked her into the basement and she didn't get out before the whole place blew up."

"Father's gas stash," Bain grunted.

Speaking of parents…why was _she_ the one who had to be here when this topic came up? "About your dad and…mom. They're…"

"The bitch beat me to them," Bain stated, his voice gaining a little strength. She saw his hands grabbing the hospital sheets in a tight grip and she knew that this wasn't an easy subject. "How long I've fantasized…she took that away before…trying to off and force the blame on me. Heh. What I've done to her so far…"

Charlie gave him an incredulous look which he noticed.

"We can't all be blessed with having _loving_ relationships with our parents," Bain drawled which sounded odd with the raspy voice and everything.

"We can't all be blessed to have them for a long time either," Charlie spat out, glaring at him.

"Charlotte, you know who I am. What I am," Bain said, looking away from her. "Are you really that surprised?"

She wouldn't give him the satisfaction of saying it out loud but no, she wasn't that surprised.

"So…the other whore is gone too?" Bain asked, trying to shift the conversation elsewhere.

"I thought I already said so but yeah, she's gone," Charlie said. "Wasn't much, though. She's mostly ash. They found maybe a few bone fragments; it's like she burned up quicker than the rest of the house."

"Where's Winslow?" Bain asked sharply, not even waiting a second for her to finish.

Rolling her eyes, Charlie looked around to see if anyone was watching or happening to walk in at the moment before taking out the blade that she had hidden on her person. "You might want to get him—it a makeover or something," she put out.

Bain stared hard at the knife and Charlie had no idea of what was going through his head. His body did relax a bit so Charlie thought that perhaps the worst was over.

"Hold on to it for a bit," Bain said. "I don't think the staff will take too kindly to its presence."

"Yeah, yeah," Charlie grumbled as she put the knife away. "So what are you going to do now? Your house is gone, your family's gone, practically everything you own is gone."

Bain took in a quick breath, eyes widening. "My Stanford letter," he hissed out.

"Stanford letter?" Charlie frowned at that. She hadn't heard anything about a letter, especially one from Stanford University of all places.

Bain's eyes snapped over to her as if realized he had said something he shouldn't have said and was now gaging her reaction. "Yes…I was…accepted into an out of state school."

Talk about awkward.

"When were you going to mention this?" Charlie asked skeptically, crossing her arms over her chest. "On the day you were planning to move out?"

"No!" Bain blurted out defensively. "The timing was…never quite right."

"How about when you first got it, huh?" Charlie bit out challengingly. "Don't even try to deny it, you're planning on accepting and going."

"You have a problem with that?" Bain grunted out. "Is there something you're not saying, hmm? Mmm, throat hurts." He pressed a hand against said throat, revealing another part of his body that had sustained burns. From the back of his hand and down to his lower arm, bandages were wrapped tightly against the flame-scarred skin and the only reason Bain didn't look in pain was probably all the painkillers that were being pumped into him.

"Hard to psychoanalyze someone if you can't talk, huh," Charlie teased. Yeah, she was avoiding the topic because she did not want to dive any deeper into it. Plus it would just serve to boost Bain's ego. Couldn't have that happening.

And Bain seemed willing to let it drop. After a few minutes, he let out a chuckle which was followed by a wince.

"What?" Charlie eyed him, wondering what was going through that twisted mind of his.

"What are the odds that the two of us would have older siblings who tried to kill us?" Bain said. "And that fire would be added to the mix? Your old house burns to the ground with your brother in it and now my house does with my sister. We have so much more in common, don't you think?"

"You're awfully mouthy for someone who claims his throat is sore," Charlie deadpanned.

Before Bain could say or do anything in retort, someone finally intruded on their time and of all people, it was…her. Pink-haired girl. Christ, Charlie was good with names! Why couldn't she remember this girl's? She was just so…so bland!

"You're awake!" the girl exclaimed, then realizing how loud she was, blushed a bit in embarrassment.

"Indeed," Bain replied, looking at the girl contemplatively.

"Sunny," the girl supplied.

"Right," Bain said.

"I helped you during prom?" Sunny said hesitantly.

"I know who you are," Bain almost snapped but his voice held him back. Then, quietly, he added, "You're assistance was…appreciated."

She looked like she was going to swoon. Charlie didn't like it. She felt so possessive all of a sudden…

"I asked you to do one more thing, didn't I?" Bain asked, his brow furrowing in thought.

"Yes, you asked me to get you this," Sunny said as she took out a phone. "It had video of you when you were…um," she looked at Charlie with uncertainty, "…you were busy doing business?"

"Have you deleted it?" Bain asked.

"No…" Sunny answered.

"Give it here."

The response was automatic. Charlie watched as Bain fiddled with the phone, opening it up and going through its contents. She would have objected about going through someone's privacy but Charlie didn't know whose phone it was. A lame excuse but she was sticking with it. Then sound started coming out of the phone and Charlie leaned around to get a look at it. The phone was playing a video and she could hear Bain's voice followed by the sounds of a struggle…

Bain snorted then pressed a few buttons. "Deleted," he said blandly. He tossed it back to Sunny and added, "Get rid of it. Destroy it, whatever."

"Can I say it was a privilege to see you work?" Sunny squeaked, squirming under Bain's dispassionate gaze.

"You just did," Charlie felt the need to point out.

"Oh, yeah," Sunny ducked her head and her red face reddened further. "I'm just…um…I'm going to go now. I'll…let the doctors know you're up."

Bain grunted but said nothing else, watching the girl until she left. As she was leaving, she passed by someone else coming and wouldn't you know it, it was the guy that Sierra had duped into coming here and the one that had helped her out during the fire. Marcus she had learned upon coming to after she herself had fallen unconscious the night of prom. He was a nice guy, as she had come to learn, maybe too nice for his own good.

Probably why Sierra had picked him out. Marcus seemed not to have the ability to see through others' deceptions or at least doubt their intentions. It was always at face value. She kinda felt sorry for him to be honest. He was still trying to come to terms with what people were accusing her of doing at prom. Hearing that Sierra had killed her own parents and then tried to kill her own brother were going to be things that he would not take very well, she could tell.

"You're awake!" Marcus exclaimed, unknowingly echoing Sunny, and he seemed to brighten up like a puppy. Charlie didn't have to look at Bain to know that he was just staring at the young cop with the blandest of looks you could imagine.

"So I have heard," Bain said.

"This is great!" Marcus said, moving towards the bed. "I mean, out of everything that's happened and…well…you know…it's…it's just good to see some good news out of this whole horrible mess."

A very frank guy, wasn't he? Charlie remained silent, keeping an eye on Bain mainly out of curiosity. It wasn't often people willingly spoke with the bedridden sociopath so seeing how he would react, well, it ought to be interesting.

"So how're you doing?" Marcus asked, coming to a stop at the end of the bed.

"Could be better," Bain rasped out.

"You don't sound so good," Marcus pointed out worriedly. "Is there something I can get you? How about some of those ice chips? I hear they're good for sore throats."

"Very well," Bain said magnanimously, waving his bandaged hand slightly.

"You just focus on getting better," Marcus told him, one of his hands coming down and placing itself onto of a sheet-covered foot and giving it a small shake. "After what you've just been through, I can understand if you're not up to speaking with anyone. The county police still want to ask you some questions, find out what happened in that house but I think I can buy you a couple of days before you have to do that. Also, if you're worried about where you can go, you can stay at the condo. I mean, your parents did buy it and all and you can stay for as long as you want…"

"I get it," Bain said. Strangely enough, there was no iciness to that.

"Get as much rest as you can," Marcus told him. "I'll go see about finding a doctor and getting him to check up on you."

When he finally left, Charlie spoke up, "I'm surprised. You weren't hostile to him."

"He's one of those people you feel bad about giving a dirty look towards," Bain calmly explained. As soon as he finished speaking, he gave a deep, ugly sounding cough, followed by a second and third one of equal ugliness. "Fuck," he swore, grimacing.

Charlie smirked at him. "Do you want someone to kiss it and make it feel better?"

Bain shot her a sharp glare. "Laugh it up…while you can."

"Sure thing," she winked at him.

"Last nerve Charlotte."

"Yeah, yeah, always grinding that last one." Charlie stood up, stretching a bit. "I'm gonna go. Somebody at home will be missing me."

"Wait." Bain touched his neck with a hand, grimacing. "Can…can you get me my coat? Before…you leave?"

Charlie paused. She had been dreading this. Deep down in her heart, she knew he was _not_ going to take this well.

Oh well.

* * *

><p>It was only now that Cartman realized the pluses of having an injury.<p>

"Meeeem! I need another bag of Cheezy Poofs!" he whined out loud.

"Coming right up, snookykins," his mother's voice rang out from the kitchen.

Yes, the plus side: when you were hurt, people tripped over themselves to make you feel better.

"Butters! Wave that fan faster! I'm not getting any cooler here!" he snapped.

"S-sorry Eric!" Butters cried out and sped up his frantic waving.

"Ahhh…" Cartman sighed as he sank down into the couch cushions. Oh yeah, this was the life. No need to do anything for himself because other people would do it for him.

"Here you go, sweetie," his mother said as he placed a TV tray in front of him. "There's your banana spilt, hold the bananas, the chocolate Oreo cake, your Dr. Pepper with crazy straw, and a new bag of Cheezy Poofs. Do you need anything else?"

"You, you are such a great mother," Cartman sniffed, calling up some good ol' fashion crocodile tears, "I mean you're the greatest and could you get me some more—"

The doorbell rang, interrupting him.

Resisting the urge to break character, he changed his request to, "Could you go see who's at the door?"

"Sure thing honey," his mother cooed, kissing his forehead in a motherly fashion.

Oh yeah, this was the life. A moment later, there was someone new in the room and Cartman sat up a bit straighter.

"What is all this?" Brianna asked, looking around at all the assorted snack bags and dirty dishes that seemed to surround the "big-boned" teen.

"Just a little something to make me feel better," he answered, using his "nice guy" voice while his mother was still in the room. Once she was back in the kitchen where she belonged, he immediately dropped the act. "You won't believe this! Ever since I got shot, everyone's been trying to make me feel better! It's fucking fantastic!"

"You've been taking advantage of everyone feeling sorry for you just so you can be catered to?" Brianna summed up.

"Duh!" Cartman snorted.

"Butters is right there, you know," Brianna pointed out.

"Yeah, I kinda am," Butters agreed, his waving slowing down to a stop.

"What do you think you're doing? I don't feel a cool tropical breeze here!" Cartman snapped, glaring at the gullible blond.

"Sorry!" Butters apologized, getting back to his waving. He only lasted a few seconds before complaining, "But my arms are gettin' tired…"

"Not my problem; you just gotta toughen up," Cartman shrugged, feeling that a little tough love would go a long way. Then speaking to Brianna, "You gotta try this! When you're hurt, everyone is willing to do anything to cheer you up! I can't believe no one's ever thought of it before!"

"They have," Brianna stated.

"I must be some kind of genius!" Cartman crowed.

"No, you're some kind of dumbass because people are going to get tired of this and then ignore you the next time you get hurt," Brianna said.

"Like that's gonna happen!" Cartman retorted. "I'm gonna milk this thing for all it's worth. Say, why don't you take a seat and relax? Do you need anything? Just say the word and my mom can get it for you."

Brianna narrowed her eyes, giving him that severe look of hers. Cartman shifted uncomfortably in his seat, not enjoying that look. He shifted a bit too much because the movement was starting to aggravate his bullet wound and thus—

"Ow! Ooh, why does it hurt so bad?" he groaned, clutching at his shoulder.

Feeling the intensity of Brianna's glare decrease, he cracked open an eye he hadn't been aware he had shut and saw that there was a hint of worry in her eyes. Heh, looks like even she wasn't immune!

"Is there anything I can—what am I saying?" Brianna began to ask only to cut herself off and start mumbling.

Hiding a smirk, Cartman said, "Can you sit down next to me? I want to maybe know if the power of love can," insert well-placed _sniff_ here, "heal my wound…"

Brianna looked torn, on one hand wanting to answer his siren call and the other wanting to assert her dominance and tell him to stop. The former looked like it was winning.

"That's so sweet," Butters said, looking at the two of them with adoring eyes.

"I'm not feeling that tropical breeze…" Cartman warned.

"Oh! Sorry Eric! Just let me get that…" Butters apologized, for like the sixteenth time in one hour, and got back to fanning.

"Whatever," Brianna sighed and took a seat right next to him, giving up

Little did she realize that she had just given up some of her control. Oh yes, Cartman thought to himself, he was going to claim dominance over this girl even if he had to strip her of control one bit at a time.

He would be the one wearing the pants in this relationship!

"Want some of my banana split," he offered, sliding the dish of ice cream closer to her.

"Where are the bananas?" she asked, eyeing the dessert critically.

"Why spoil a good thing with fruit?" Cartman scoffed.

Grunting, Brianna took the dish and Cartman knew he was just one step closer to his goal.

"Can I rest for a minute guys?"

"Tropical breeze!"

* * *

><p>Wendy 2—er, Gwendolyn Long was not a happy camper right now.<p>

Just a couple of hours ago, she had called for an emergency meeting of MUFFDIVER because she was starting to get a bit desperate. She was no closer to getting Stan than she had the day he had broken up with her and damn it, she was teetering at the deep end!

Why couldn't Stan see that they were great for each other? He was the star quarterback of the school with the good looks and she was the piece of eye candy at his side, not a cheerleader but so much better than them. They had _chemistry_ together and she wasn't talking about the class though they did both have that one together.

What was the problem here?

But back to what was going on, she had called her emergency meeting and only a handful of girls had shown up. Neither Ella or Violet had decided to make an appearance so Gwendolyn was going to be the only personality here.

And then that's when things started going downhill.

Those that had shown up were complaining. _Complaining!_ They were whining about how none of the guys seemed interested in them but what did Gwendolyn care? She needed their help to get Stan! Why were they bitching?

Then she heard about how Kyle had broken up with Violet, that Ella and Clyde weren't going steady (Clyde didn't like being "tied down" and wanted to see other people), and those girls who did get their guys found out the morning after Prom that their guys were disinterested in them.

And that was Gwendolyn's problem how?

Well, somebody had gone behind their backs and spread ugly rumors about them being man hunters who just wanted trophy husbands. There was also something about slabs of meat but Gwendolyn didn't quite understand it. Nevertheless, as a result, the main point most of the guys had said was they wanted to be treated like they were a person and not something you could buy at a butcher shop.

There were also the couple guys who had just wanted a one night stand. They didn't count.

What it all amounted to was, "We quit, it was nice to know you, but now we're freelance."

Yes, somebody had actually said it. It was a direct quote.

And so, MUFFDIVER was disbanded.

And damn it, Gwendolyn was no closer to nabbing Stan than she was when she had started LESBIAN in the prequel to this story!

That was why she was at Whistlin' Willie's, a large, steaming pepperoni pizza in front of her without a slice taken out of it. She was daring herself to eat it. To give into the temptation, to eat comfort food like all the bulimic girls did and then vomit it up in the bathroom. Is that what Stan wanted? Someone who was bulimic? Because she'd do it. She was that desperate.

"I heard I would find you here," a voice she didn't want to hear said, a chair pulling out as a girl Gwendolyn didn't want to see took a seat in front of her.

"What? Come to revel in my defeat?" Gwendolyn sneered, glaring at Bonnie.

"No, just to share the feeling of disappointment with," Bonnie sighed. "A bunch of the girls got together and said that they didn't want to be a part of LESBIAN anymore. And since Brittany's too busy being in the hospital and couldn't keep everyone together, we all broke up. LESBIAN's dead and gone."

Heh, at least someone else was feeling her misery.

"And you know what else?" Bonnie added. "DJ was waiting for me and told me everything. That she was working for you guys too and that since we didn't keep up our ends of the deal and she was in a bad mood, she was going to screw us over. Isn't she a bitch?"

Okay, that bit of information Gwendolyn hadn't known. You mean to tell her that this whole time DJ had been a double agent? And now she's turned around and double-crossed both of them?

"And she also said that to get a good deal on one-of-a-kind revenge kits, go to the Black Market where you can get a cheap deal on them," Bonnie said. "She just had to rub it in, didn't she?"

"Terrific," Gwendolyn groaned, putting her chin in the palm of her hand.

"But what's worse is that I didn't see Kenny after Prom and he never came to sweep me off my feet as I hoped he would," Bonnie sighed. Spotting the pizza, she asked, "Are you going to share that?"

"Don't even, fucking, think, about it," Gwendolyn growled.

"Aww," Bonnie pouted.

Several minutes of silence passed between the two and the only thing of note that happened was the pizza getting colder. Fuck, both LESBIAN and MUFFDIVER were gone and it was practically the end of senior year. There would be no time to set up a new group and since college was after this…

Well, college was always a new start. Optimistic but damn it, Gwendolyn was desperate.

"Look at us," Bonnie sighed. "Back where we started. Alone and single. At least we have—"

"I'll let you have a couple slices if you don't finish that thought," Gwendolyn interrupted.

"Okay!" Bonnie chirped and helped herself.

* * *

><p>Gary was in a tired yet happy mood. That was the best way he could explain it as he took a little time out from the day by flopping face first on his bed. It didn't matter that it was the middle of the day or the fact that he would be getting up in a bit to make a little trip to the hospital.<p>

A friend happened to have been in an accident of sorts after prom and well, far be it from him to leave the guy all alone in a cold and sterile place. Though how a place like Hell's Pass could be so cold, he didn't know but he always had that feeling whenever he passed through those automatic doors.

But that was neither here nor there. It seemed like things were finally cooling down with Kyra and Stan. He had heard the good news that the two decided to get back together and he had to give them a congratulations. Hopefully this time they would last longer than a couple of months.

Stan was going to have to learn to trust Kyra more and Kyra…well, Gary couldn't think of anything she could work on but then again that could just be bias on his part since she was his best friend. This time he could only pray they got it right. Sure his prayers would be Mormon but did it matter? A prayer was a prayer no matter who it came from.

Groaning a bit, he slipped a hand under his pillow so that he could better press his head against it. The whole Kyra-Stan matter had been _exhausting_ in a way. So much stress, so much drama, it was tiring just thinking about it! For now it looked like it was resolved but Gary had a feeling that there would be more trying times in the future.

It didn't matter if that was the most obvious and easy prediction a person could make since all relationships had moments that would be straining.

Heh. Who knew the key to Kyra's heart would be the Master Chief as she called him? Now that he thought about it, how else would you get her attention outside of a video game reference? How much dignity did Stan have to sacrifice to go through with such a plan? He must have been suffering all those days without Kyra, enough that he was able to pull that kind of stunt in front of a crowd of people and risk humiliating himself.

Right now, he just needed a time out. Then he could fortify himself to make the trip to Hell's Pass and check up on Bain. They didn't hang out often if at all but he still felt a bit attached to the shorter teen since his bout with amnesia. He could never forget how trusting and friendly he had been then.

Gave him hope that that part of him was somewhere deep within Bain, under all the gruff and darkness that seemed to envelop him like a cloak. One could only wonder what could have caused Bain to end up like that. Did it in any way involve this latest accident?

Well, whatever it was, it wouldn't stop Gary from going over there. A fellow school mate was in need and he had a feeling not a lot of people would be going over for a visit.

He frowned, opening his eyes as something met his fingertips. The sudden and odd sensation had disrupted his train of thought. What was it? Feeling whatever it was out a bit more, he discovered that it was very soft and if he exerted enough strength he could bend it. Stopping with his unseen exploration, he grasped the object between his fingertips and pulled it out gently.

Huh. What was a feather doing under his pillow? He wasn't aware if the pillow he used had any feathers in them and he didn't think they did. And it was so white, so unnaturally white. He got that there was this sense of purity about it and this just wasn't making any sense to him.

One of his younger siblings must have put it there. Maybe one of them had picked it off of the ground and hid it here because they didn't want their parents finding it. He couldn't put such an act pass them either.

Eh, no harm, no foul. In case they came back for it later, Gary put it back under his pillow, right where he had found it.

It couldn't possibly mean anything, could it?

* * *

><p>There was still unfinished business left.<p>

Kyle was "back on the market" but Damien was pretty sure he had him wrapped up. However, there was one little thing he needed to do first.

That mortal girl, Violet, had thought that she could take his Jew away from him. She thought that she could make Kyle hers. She thought she could deny him what he desired most. Well, they would see about that wouldn't they?

He had waited for some time, letting the days pass by until the perfect opportunity had arisen. Since prom, Violet had taken to walking the streets of the town, always aimlessly, always searching for something. If Damien didn't know any better, he'd have to say she was depressed. He had seen enough of those signs back home where many a mortal soul fell under such a psychological condition.

Of course, there was nothing to be happy about down in Hell outside of his father's wild luaus. Morning torture, mid-morning torture, afternoon torture, followed by evening torture and then if someone was feeling sadistic late night torture was the norm in that fiery pit. Nothing occurred after midnight that wasn't a party though because anguished screams and cries of agony kept his father from getting his beauty sleep.

Heaven save the rotten soul that disturbed his father's beauty sleep.

What was he thinking again? Oh right, the mortal Violet. Yes, there she was, again on another walk. Damien had waited quite some time for this and now…now was the time. No one important would have the chance to see or interfere and it was going to be over real quick.

No one would even be the wiser…

Damien took his place, standing on a relative dry piece of earth just off the sidewalk, melting snow on either side and behind him. Violet was walking this way, following the path of the sidewalk and getting closer…closer…and closer…

She must not be very observant of her surroundings because just now she had walked right by Damien without even seeing him. It was something that both amused and annoyed the Antichrist and since the mortal would not make the effort to initiate, he supposed he would have to do it.

"You seem to be in a happy mood."

Damien smirked as the mortal stopped herself short of her next step and slowly turned around to face him. He had to admit, the look she was giving him as she enacting the action was pretty intimidating. What was that mortal saying? Oh right, "it was always the nice ones…"

"What do you want?" she spat out at him, bitter. "Kyle broke up with me. Aren't you happy?"

Damien blinked cluelessly at her, though he was anything but clueless. Being a good actor came with the territory of being a demon. "I wasn't aware that the two of you were in a steady relationship, at least that's what Kyle led me to believe," he said. "Now, that you two dated but are not dating anymore, that I'm aware of. That it was anything more than trying out the waters…are you sure you weren't seeing more than there really was?"

Violet looked stricken for a moment when Damien had mentioned Kyle but he had to give her props, she masked that reaction pretty quickly. "Are you here to rub it in?" she demanded. "Don't bother and stop annoying me. I'll get Ella to beat you up if you don't."

"Foolish mortal," Damien shook his head as if he was speaking to a misbehaving child. "That's not why I am here."

"Then why—" Violet began to ask.

"Did you really think you could get away with it?" Damien interrupted.

"Get away with what?" Violet frowned, not getting what he was trying to say.

"Invoking my ire," Damien said calmly, almost conversationally. "It takes guts to cross me, mortal girl."

"I don't get it…but I'm not in the mood," Violet said, frown deepening. "Just leave me alone and go away."

"I'm afraid I can't do that," Damien replied.

Before Violet could say anything else, the sidewalk beneath her broke open as a large, scaled hand with clawed fingers seized Violet's much smaller body, flames spitting out from around the hand's wrist. Not able to get a scream out, Violet was pulled down into the hellish portal, the opening closing just as quickly as it was made and leaving no sign that it had actually occurred.

Damien smirked, his red glowing eyes dimming as his summon came to an end. "Never cross a devil, foolish mortal."

Enjoy your stay in Hell. You may check in but you can never check out…

* * *

><p>The night seemed darker than usual but Mysterion peered into it without fear. From atop his perch on a random building in downtown South Park, he scanned the streets, searching for any sign of misdeeds or juvenile delinquency.<p>

Even though it was darker out this night, it seemed as if it was just going to be another early night. Whatever it was, it seemed like no one was in the mood for a little law breaking this night. It was how he preferred it; the less he had to do, the better this town was. It was a sign that he wasn't needed and ultimately, no matter how you looked at it, a world where there was no need for Mysterion was what he was fighting for.

But some people didn't understand that (_cough_EricCartman_cough!_) and thought it was all about the fame and recognition. You had to deal with some of those loonies every once in a while as well as the occasional pretender. It did liven things up but Mysterion was not about livening things up.

Excuse him for being the party pooper.

Without taking his eyes off the streets below him, he cocked his head to a side, visibly showing that he knew he wasn't alone. The person was behind him and to a side, the same side that he cocked his head towards.

"You can come out now," he stated.

A moment later, he recognized the deliberate yet clumsy-footed steps that approached him. So Le Chat Noir was out here too. He shouldn't be surprised and he wasn't. He may not have expected her but the fact that he had encountered her like this a half-dozen times before had taken the novelty out of it.

"How do you always know when I'm there?" Le Chat Noir asked.

"It's easy to tell when someone stares at your back and looks nowhere else," he answered, not even blinking. "Why did you come?"

"I…I wanted to," Le Chat Noir said. "Crime never sleeps, right? So neither should _Le Chat Noir_."

"I thought that once until I realized that even I need sleep," Mysterion said. "Are you sure this is what you want to do? Once you take this path there is no going back. Once you dedicate yourself, there is no saying 'I'm tired so can we take a break?' You give yourself fully to it and fight it out to the very end no matter how far off it looks. Is that something you're willing to sacrifice whatever life you may potentially have? This is your last chance before this life claims you and never releases its hold."

Mysterion could hear her swallow, a nervous gesture of hers. He wasn't going to sugarcoat this. If this was something she wanted to do, then she had Goddamn better be willing to give it all up for it.

"Yes," she stated. "I've seen too much. People can't protect themselves from the…the monsters like Bain and his sister. Someone has to be willing to step up and stand in their way—"

"It's not just those monsters you have to deal with," Mysterion cut in. "It's fighting crime at every level. From the big fish who try and blow up hospitals to the little ones that spray graffiti on the bridge or harass Mexicans at the movie theater. It's the little crimes as well as the epic ones. Nothing is ever too small for a masked vigilante who hopes to be a symbol of hope for the people of this town. This is your last chance. Are you willing or not?"

Le Chat Noir hesitated. Mysterion waited for his answer.

"Ye…yes," Le Chat Noir declared, standing tall. "I'm willing to do what it takes to protect the citizens of South Park from all threats."

Mysterion let a little smile curve the corners of his lips. "I hope, for your sake, that you can keep that vow."

"You just watch me!" Le Chat Noir exclaimed. "I'll have this town so free of crime that you can leave your front door unlocked!"

"Is that so?" Mysterion shook his head in amusement, the action hidden by his hood. "Then you picked a good night to make such a vow. It's quiet tonight. I doubt anything will be happening."

"What? Aww…" Le Chat Noir pouted. "I so wanted to prove that I was dedicated too."

"Be careful what you wish for," Mysterion chided. Down the street, a car alarm began to blare and Mysterion snapped his head in the direction of the noise. He could see a couple of figures close to the vehicle in question, the car's lights flashing and trying to bring as much attention to it as possible. "You just might get it," he finished. "Are you going to back out now?"

"Of course not!" Le Chat Noir said but she did look a bit shaken at the unexpected crime-in-action.

"Prove it," Mysterion smirked. "Until then, don't expect any Spiderman kisses." With the whip of his cape, he was dashing along the rooftops, sprinting towards the scene of the crime with purpose.

"What? Come on!" Le Chat Noir cried out from behind him. "Wait for me!"


End file.
